


A Chance You Only Get Once

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Marauders' Era, Novel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-03
Updated: 2008-03-31
Packaged: 2019-01-19 21:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 75,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12418524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Some people live and die in a brilliant flash of light. Others, seeing them, live their lives almost too afraid to light their own candle, for fear that it will burn and die as quickly. Some of the brightest lights of the wizarding world shone fearlessly at Hogwarts during the Reign of Terror,  and faded as quickly into darkness. ...





	1. The Turkey Bowl

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

<b>Disclaimer:</b> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  (And if you didn’t know that JK owns Harry Potter or that I am not her, you might be beyond help).

<b>A Chance You Only Get Once</b> by Grimm Sister 

<b>Chapter One The Turkey Bowl</b>

The snow was swirling about as if a child somewhere had just shaken the snow globe that Hogwarts castle and grounds was nestled inside. The Forbidden Forest looked misleadingly sweet with its dark green trees full of pure white snow. Though the snow was not thick enough to cover footprints, only one set marred the white expanse. They led from a figure that from any of the castle windows appeared like a dark spot on the grounds. 

Not that many were in the castle to look out the window. Only a dozen or so had stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas break, and everyone but this man was far too busy enjoying a cheery Christmas Eve by the fire to notice the man trekking out across the snow. 

He strode purposefully forward, not worrying about being followed as he would have once. He also didn't worry about the time. He had plenty of it, because he planned to visit the memorial before heading to the Whomping Willow. The Willow was no place to spend Christmas, but there were memories there. Some of them were even pleasant, and if he couldn't have Christmas with all of his friends, Remus Lupin figured that he might as well celebrate Christmas with their ghosts. If he hadn't taken the potion yesterday, he might even have the chance to see her again. 

No matter. He was going to see her now. He walked straight into the forest, not worrying that he left a direct trail to the place. He and Mundungus were the only ones who remembered it now, except perhaps Snape. They were the only ones left to mourn Marissa. 

Then he had reached the clearing and was looking at the snow-woman again. How strange it would look to a first year that stumbled upon it in May, a snow-woman standing on the green summer grass. But then, the place was too well protected for that. Lily's handiwork, he remembered, transfiguring the place into an Unplottable location, even on the great Marauder's Map. 

But it had been Sirius who remembered the Living Memory Incantation, the kind of spell Marissa herself would have thought up. Sirius. How could he have been so wrong about him? Remus shook himself. He had not come here to think of Sirius, or even Lily and James and Peter. 

Remus gazed up at the snow-woman who had Marissa's gentle face, eyes closed in an expression of inner peace. Her head was thrown back into the wind, hair streaming behind it, her arms spread wide to accept the breeze, all in the crisp and sparkling white of new fallen snow. Two other details were different from the memory that had created it. Wings spread back behind her, almost blending with her hair, and her clothes were the garb of angels rather than Hogwarts students. However, a tiny silver prefect's badge stood out on her chest and a scarlet and gold scarf streamed back from one of her hands. Remus smiled slightly although it was sorrow that stole at his heart. 

Remus walked slowly up to her and laid a small branch of evergreen at her feet. It immediately started to grow until it formed a wreath around her. Remus stood there for a long moment, as transfixed by her face as he had been when he saw her standing there like this. In their sixth year. But time with Marissa was best measured from one Christmas to the next. 

This was Remus's most powerful memory of her, gathering strength and peace from the wind, looking so small and fragile that any moment it would lift her up and blow her away, yet also strong at the same time. There was courage and beauty, and something else on her face as well. Acceptance. An acceptance that he had often wondered about in the years since. 

This was the first image that came into Remus's mind at the thought of her, not her screaming at a Quidditch match, or the look in her eyes when she knew his secret, or laughing and juggling in the Common Room, or even the last time that he saw her, stalking off Platform Nine and Three Quarters. All those memories came in quick succession afterward, but this image came first and lingered longest, and in all the long years that had come and gone, it was the only one that had not lost its sharpness. 

What better proof was there of that than that the memorial was still as immaculate as the day that they had made it? Just as potent with her peace and their grief? 

"Merry Christmas, Riss," he said quietly, hoping that the gentle wind would carry his words to wherever it was that she had gone. 

Remus had a few friends that he had made since he lost, one by one and all at once, the friends that changed his life, that <i>gave</i> him a life. All of them had at one time or another asked him why he insisted on living such a lonely life. They thought that he felt guilty for being alive when James, Lily, and Peter were dead. They supposed that he didn't want to inflict his lycanthropy on a wife and children. They thought him broken beyond repair by the losses of the friends who had made his life worthwhile when he was young. 

The answer was simpler than that, and Marissa had said it herself long ago. True love is a chance you only get once. 

"Hm. . ." said a small voice in her ear. Marissa nearly jumped out of her skin, she was already so on the edge her first night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Make that her first night in the wizarding world. "Now there's something I haven't seen before. . .wanted to be a magician before you knew you were a witch? Oh yes, you're a very unique spirit. Now, where is your resting place? … Not your home, eh? Is that what you think? Well, I'll find you another one presently… A good mind, but a creative flair and relaxed manner that would be wasted in Ravenclaw ... definitely not a Slytherin ... just the demeanor for a Hufflepuff but, ah, what's this? That took courage, young lady. A great deal of courage indeed. That settles it, the place for your is GRYFFINDOR!" 

The table on the far left burst into applause as Marissa lifted the hat up over her face. Just before she lifted it fully off, the small voice whispered, "Take care, Marissa Fletcher." Then the Hogwarts Sorting Hat had had its final say. 

Marissa bounced lightly forward and took her seat at the Gryffindor table which let out its first great cheer of the night. Although Gryffindor later received four boys that year (two of whom made a grand entrance half an hour late), Lily Evans (who came in with the boys blushing furiously) was the only other lioness that year.

What bound the two girls together was not similar disposition, for they were very different, or even necessity. It wasn't even being two of only three Muggle-born girls in their year. It was Petunia and Mundungus. It wasn't hard to get past their difference when they realized that they shared the thing they held closest to their hearts: the love and virtual worship of a younger sibling. It wasn't the Hogwarts Sorting Hat or the close tower room that brought them together in the end, it was Petunia and Mundungus, each of whom worshipped the ground that Lily and Marissa walked on. And Hogwarts was the shrine of those too religions. But Petunia and Mundungus were not the only ones destined to love the two lionesses of the Gryffindor. 

* * *<b> Five and a Half Years Later </b>* * *

Her house was not what he had expected, from his blindly wizard point of view. It was unlike any other house Peter Pettigrew had ever seen, excluding the houses all along the same street. It seemed a misnomer - Was that the right word? Peter never knew - for Marissa Fletcher's house not to stand out from its neighbors'. It was not nearly so large as the Lupin Castle but it was far larger than the Black Mansion, which was still saying something. It was also surprisingly quite unlike James's home. 

It was elegant, but falsely so. How the almost painfully earnest girl could stand to live in a house with artificial charm bewildered Peter. How could she have learned to be so <i>real</i> growing up in a place full of <i>cement</i> imitations of marble pillars. . .where gargoyle statues had been softened to the point that they were cutesy, although Muggles probably thought them quite formidable? And everything was so <i>new.</i> Where would she have learned to love history, even taught by Binns, the way she did? How had she acquired whatever it was that made even his lessons suddenly seem fascinating? Peter could hardly believe she managed to stay awake to hear it in the first place, but when she retold it, even the dullest historical event suddenly felt like they were hearing an epic adventure. She was a story-teller, that was how. But she certainly wouldn't have learned any of it here, where they built false history for atmosphere - the look was what <i>Muggles</i> wanted, not the story behind it. 

Peter had time to ponder all this, as well as worry he hadn't gotten the whole knocker thing right, while he waited for Marissa Fletcher to open the door. Truth be told, she almost startled him when she swung the door abruptly open without so much a glow of the fireplace to announce that she was approaching. 

Marissa's crystal blue eyes were dancing as if she had just pulled herself together after laughing. Her grin was broad, her cheeks a bit flushed, and she was pulling a lock of her golden hair back behind her ear. The very sight of her took his breath away and made his heart catch in his chest. 

That he expected from Marissa Fletcher. What he hadn't expected, and there was always something with that girl, was for her to be holding a frozen turkey in her hands. She was surprised too, surprised to see him there. "Hello, Peter," and it was clear from her voice that she had been laughing just a moment before. He loved that sound in her voice but hated that it was James and Sirius who usually caused it. "Not to be rude," Peter couldn't imagine it of her, "But to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"Peter smiled, but raised an eyebrow at her odd phrase. "Yes, I know, the lingo comes with the house," she laughed, opening the door wide to admit him. "So what brings you to my humble home?" Now, Peter thought, he had encountered a misnomer. The place looked even bigger from the inside. His eyes traveled around the foyer growing ever wider. Marble rose up from the floor where it was so polished and set that he was afraid to trod on it, and the least expensive surface was made of fine mahogany. Unlike the imitation style of the house itself, every piece of furniture he laid eyes on was a pricey antique. What was more, even Peter could tell that whoever decorated it had taste. What he didn't know was that it was taste nine years out of style, but then he wouldn't have appreciated the significance if he had. 

"Your holiday really all that bad, Peter?" Marissa asked, when his eyes finally came down from the mural on the ceiling and met hers. A slight shock went through him, and he felt himself nodding before he knew what was happening. That was what he loved about Marissa Fletcher. She understood people, even Slytherins, instantly. She knew secrets, and she didn't judge for them. You rarely had to tell her anything, she just understood. James could keep his Lily, gorgeous, brilliant, stunning Lily. Peter found pretty, clever, kind, understanding Marissa infinitely preferable. Lily was amazing, nearly everyone felt dwarfed by her shadow, making her just the woman for James, but Peter loved Marissa for standing beside her and never once feeling too small. Everyone may admire Lily, it was nearly impossible not to, but everyone loved Marissa. She would go among first years, drying tears, guiding them in the shifting halls of Hogwarts, pulling Sickles out of their ears to cheer them up when they were homesick or being teased. She was the only Gryffindor to never get in a fight with a Slytherin, not with words or wands. She turned aside all conflict, she laughed at all adversity directed at her and her compassion drowned any directed at others. Lily may be the goddess of Hogwarts, but Marissa was its angel, and she had touched far more lives. 

And now the angel was looking at Peter with a smile on her face, but a sad, sweet smile meant to provide what she surely thought a meager comfort. But it meant far more to Peter Pettigrew than she would ever understand, for though she saw through him with ease, she never realized that she was anything special herself. Wait a moment, saw everything? Peter suddenly felt a sinking of fear. What if she saw how he loved her? How could she miss how he fell over himself to get near her? What if she saw and. . .of course she would be kind about it, but it would still be awful! No, she must never see. But what if she already had? 

"Peter?" Marissa said uncertainly, looking at him with concern. "Are you all right? Do you need to talk or - ""Rissa!" Mundungus's young voice shouted from another room. "It's your turn!" 

Peter's eyes were drawn back to the frozen turkey in Marissa's hand, and he wondered anew what its purpose was. The laughing smile returned to Rissa's, his Rissa's, face as she looked in the direction of her brother's voice. "What?" Peter asked, feeling confused. Was this a Muggle thing? 

"I'll show you if you're sure you don't need to talk," Marissa said, looking him in the eyes, searching for the answer before he could give it. 

"No, not now anyway, I just wanted to be here," Peter said, holding back that he would rather be here than anywhere and that he couldn't have taken another moment in his own house. Marissa seemed to guess the latter, but she did not comment on it, per his wishes. 

"Well then come on, before Gus has a cow in there!" Marissa laughed. Peter glanced confusedly at the turkey in her hand. Where they playing some animal game? Wasn't Mundungus nine? A little old for that? Marissa noticed his glance and burst out laughing. She took his hand in her free one and pulled him forward. "Come on, you!" She was still chuckling, at what he wasn't sure, when they reached the room. 

Gus ran right up to them. "Riss! I've been waiting for forty-five minutes!" he demanded angrily. 

Marissa just laughed, releasing Peter's hand casually. She had never meant anything by it. "Amazing how time flies, eh Peter?" she smirked to him about her brother's exaggeration. 

He may be nine, but he was as excited as a six year old in the presence of his sister. "Come on Riss! YOUR TURN!" 

"All right, all right!" Marissa laughed, holding up her free hand in surrender. "Have the bottles reset themselves?" 

"Um, Marissa, what is all this?" Peter asked, glancing around at the mess of objects around him. 

"This," Marissa said as if she were announcing at a Quidditch Match, "Is the Grand Finals of Turkey Bowling!" 

"And I'm winning!" Mundungus piped in victoriously, carrying a large frozen turkey of his own. 

"Not for long!" Marissa challenged, going to the beginning of what looking like a long trail of slippery carpet. "Let's show him how it's done, eh Gus?" she said with a wink. Then she pulled the turkey back and sent it barreling down the lane, slipping and sliding, to strike the collection of milk bottles at the end of it. 

Peter was surprised that they didn't shatter. "What is all this?" he asked. 

"Oh, I risked a little magic when I went up to Diagon Alley yesterday," Marissa said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I put an unbreakable charm on the milk jugs and poured an extra-slippery potion onto this old piece of cloth this morning after taping it to the floor." 

"But what - why?" Peter asked, none of that making sense to him. 

Marissa shook her head, muttering, "Purebloods." Then she smiled, "It's a sport, called bowling. You use a ball to knock over some pins, but we're short an alley and all the equipment so. . .we're making do!" 

"This is even better!" Mundungus said excitedly, rushing to reset the bottles so that he could have his turn. "I'll show you how it's done!" Peter wondered if Mundungus ever calmed down while he was around his sister. 

In the meantime, Mundungus was hurling his own frozen turkey down the slippery lane, successfully knocking over every single jug. "YEEEEES!" he shouted, jumping up in the air so high Peter almost thought he was taking off on a broom. 

What surprised him was Marissa's reaction. She let out a whoop of excitement and cried, "You got a strike!" She ran over and hugged him, lifting him slightly before setting him down again. They both started jumping up and down, pumping the air with their fists like a bizarre war dance. It was at this point that Peter was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable in the Fletcher house. Marissa noticed this after a moment. She was still beaming when she turned to him, "Why don't you try it, Peter?" she asked, moving down the lane and starting to reset the bottles. 

A moment later she returned, holding the frozen turkey. "What do I do with it?" Peter said, taking it uncertainly.

"You get it straight back to the freezer if that is my GOOD TURKEY, MARISSA JANE FLETCHER!" a woman said, coming in from another door. She had on a starched apron with a candy cane pattern that was slightly dulled in places by a sprinkling of flour. She had her hands on her hips and was looking very stern, but not in the way that Professor McGonagall did. She looked more matronly. 

"I don't have a death wish, Mavi!" Marissa replied with a laugh. "Your Christmas turkey is safe and sound," she assured her. 

"All right then," she said, eyeing her shrewdly but smilingly. "Whatever it is you're doing, just clean it up when you're done," she sighed a long-suffering sigh, shaking her head. In the process, her eyes fell on Peter. "Marissa Jane Fletcher!" she shouted, again flaring up like an indignant matron, "Why didn't you tell me that we have company?" 

"This is Peter Pettigrew, Mavi," Marissa said. "He's a friend from school. He just dropped in." 

"Well, Master Pettigrew, you'll be wanting to stay to supper no doubt?" 

"Oh you really should," Marissa replied instantly. "Mavi's cooking is second to none, not even the Hogwarts feasts are so delicious," she insisted. 

"Now don't think you'll be buttering me up with all that, Miss Marissa, I know you're planning to stick me in the oven and fry me up good one of these days every time you start in with that," she replied, smiling nevertheless, wiping her hands on her apron. "Make sure you set Master Pettigrew's place at the table, Dung," she added to Mundungus as she turned and swept out of the room. 

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Flectcher!" Peter yelled after her awkwardly. 

"Mavi's not our mother," Mundungus replied as if this should have been instantly apparent. "She's our cook." 

"Ah, does Marissa Jane Fletcher have a Muggle version of a house elf?" Peter asked, turning to her with a rare mischievous glint in his eye. 

"No I most certainly do not!" Marissa replied, her eyes flashing. Peter was suddenly nervous. He had never seen Marissa angry before, but she looked close to it now. "We pay Mavi, we respect her, we treat her like a person, like part of the family - " 

"That just happens to wait on you?" Peter challenged, not quite ready to be abashed. 

"For which she is paid and she is in no way forced to do! It's her job not her life!" Marissa shot back, growing angrier and angrier. 

Peter decided that this was a good time to back down. "So. . .so should I just throw it down there or what?" he said, nodding to the frozen turkey in his hands. 

Marissa sighed, the fight going out of her instantly, no resentment remained. Yet another reason to love her. A few minutes later, the three of them were laughing uproariously as Peter tried, yet again, to score a strike. "I'm never going to get this!" he cried in frustration as his turkey slid too far to the right, only knocking down four of the ten jugs. 

"Marissa, can I go back to Hogwarts with you?" Gus asked suddenly, turning to his sister. 

Marissa froze, looking shocked. She turned to face him very slowly. "Um, Gus, I don't know if. . .You know you'll get to come when you're eleven. . ." she struggled to find something to say. 

"But Lily's sister never got to go!" Mundungus pointed out. "What if I'm like her? What if I can't go? Can I please come now? Just for a visit? In case I never see it?" 

Marissa had her mouth open, searching for words to answer his question when the storm broke out. 

"WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?" a tall man in his late forties came storming into the room, a vein already popping in his forehead just at the sight of them. 

Marissa and Mundungus both jumped and spun around, looking stricken. "N-nothing, Daddy," Marissa stuttered out, her voice betraying her. Peter stared. He had never seen Marissa Fletcher be afraid of anything, even nervous. 

"Don't you stand there in the clothes I put on your ungrateful back and lie to me, Marissa Fletcher," Mr. Fletcher snapped, taking a step toward her menacingly. 

"I'm not lying, Daddy, we're going to clean it up," Marissa insisted, her voice shaking. She appeared to be struggling to stand her ground. The girl who out-stared Slytherins when they were throwing terrible diatribes at her was almost visibly shaking in the face of her father's fury. "We were just - just having some fun. . .playing. . ." 

<i>"Playing?"</i> Mr. Fletcher demanded, by no means seeming pacified. "You missed Mundungus growing up and you're forcing him to relive it for <i>you?</i>" he shouted at her. Marissa looked like she was going to cry, trying to protest but nothing was coming out. "You can't dress him up like a little puppet! You made your choice! You walked out on this family, and you can't have that back whenever it pleases you!" 

"She didn't walk out!" Peter shot back, anger coursing through him, taking a step toward the man who was almost a foot taller than him. 

"And bringing your little freak boys into my house!" Mr. Fletcher roared, his eyes bugging out as he spotted Peter. "I have very few rules for how you conduct yourself at that school, Marissa Jane - " 

He had gone too far in everyone's opinion. "Jerome Fletcher!" Mavi called, coming in from the kitchen, looking stern. "How dare you!" 

"I am your employer and you have stepped outside of your authority," Mr. Fletcher said to her, not to be pacified. Mavi shut her mouth but stood there looking defiant. Mr. Fletcher raised his eyebrows at her pointedly and she huffily spun on her heel and returned to the kitchen. 

"Peter's just my friend, Daddy," Marissa said, sounding like she was pleading with him, her voice tight to repress her sobs. "He came by because it's Christmas and he's - " 

"Taking in wounded puppies again, Marissa?" Mr. Fletcher demanded, shouting over her and making her jump again. "Bringing them in to shit in my house. Truth be told I don't really expect any better from you, off at that freak school most of the year, what would you know of how things are at home? What do you care about us here? But you, Dungus, you should know better you little - " 

The moment that he turned on Mundungus, Marissa moved in front on him, pushing him behind her as if to protect him from his father's words. He didn't peak out from behind his sister as his father continued to rail at them. Marissa suddenly looked much stronger, determined. She could defend Mundungus even if she couldn't stand up to him for herself. 

"Oh, isn't that sweet," he said sarcastically, taking a step towards them. Marissa, this time, stood her ground. "But you aren't here to protect him all the time, Marissa. You're off at that freak place, and what do you care about Dungus then? I'll tell you what, nothing. And that's all you are to this family, nothing. I don't know why you even bother coming home on holidays. You abandoned us. And now Dungus is all mine. So don't you go through this charade of acting like you care about him when it's convenient to you then leave us like you always do." 

With that he strode from the room. Marissa closed her eyes and a tear leaked out of one of them and slid quickly down her cheek. Peter stared at it in horror. He had come to her because he needed to have a happy moment, a friendly face, even a glimpse of what a family should be. But Marissa Fletcher came from a broken home too. 

"Yes," she said softly. For a second Peter wondered if he had said that aloud. Then he realized that Mundungus had poked his head out from around her and was looking up at her expectantly. "Yes, you can come to Hogwarts with me," she said even more softly. She opened her eyes to see excitement growing on Mundungus's face. 

"Riss, are you sure about this?" Peter asked, the words bursting from him before he could stop them. "I mean, how are you going to pull this off? And what if they call it kidnapping or something? So much could go wrong - " 

"If I have to drop out of school and get a job he's not spending one more day alone in this house with that man!" Marissa cried, drowning him out. 

Peter was staring at her in awe. "Will you tell on me, Peter?" she said with a small smile, her first since her father's entrance. 

"Would you really do that?" Peter asked her, staring at her with new feeling welling up in him. Even greater admiration than he thought it was possible to feel. "Give up on all your dreams for your little brother?" 

"I'd fight off a pack of Death Eaters," Marissa said, turning to look him in the eye. "Loyalty, that's what really matters in the end. It's the difference between a monster and just an enemy. The highest virtue and the hardest thing to get back if you've lost it."Peter met her eyes steadily, knowing it would never forget her words. "I wish someone felt like that about me," he said in a very small voice. 

To his great surprise, Marissa smiled, "You're smart, Wormtail, smarter than any of those boys or your parents give you credit for. Surely you don't believe that no one loves you. You must never believe that, Wormtail." She was looking him in eye. Peter felt raised a few notches, as if he suddenly had more worth, at least in her eyes. 

Then he realized something. She had never called him "Wormtail" before. In fact, she never called any of the Marauders by their chosen nicknames. She barely called anyone by a nickname, derogatory or otherwise. Gus and Lily (or rather Lils) were just about the extent. What did this mean? 

Whatever it did, Peter knew that he would never forget it. 

If Marissa realized what a significant moment it was for him, she smiled just as if she had pointed out that the sky was blue. She walked over to him. "Thank you for defending me," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek in gratitude. 

He wasn't even aware of doing it, but he turned his head so that she met his lips instead. For half a second, Peter was in heaven. Then it was over. 

She cleared her throat softly and took a step away pointedly. She appeared to be chewing on her lip, trying to think of a way to say the fatal words. Peter didn't care which one she chose, it meant the same thing to him. Disappointment sank deep into him. 

"You're a good friend, Peter, but I didn't lie to my father a moment ago," she said softly. 

"Yeah, I got that," Peter said stiffly. "I think I'd better go now." He dropped the turkey and hurried out toward the foyer again. 

"Peter!" Marissa called after him, appearing in the doorway just as he opened the front door again. "I wasn't lying about Mavi's cooking either. . .you should stay. . ." 

Peter gave a half-hearted smile. "Merry Christmas, Marissa. See you and Dung on the Hogwarts Express." 

©KatyMulvaney12-29-2003


	2. Fletchers Don't Blend In

<b>Chapter Two Fletchers Don't Blend In</b>

<i>Such pain, whispered the voice in his ear. Something I see more and more often in such young minds these days. But the loss has affected you more than any other head that I have sat upon in a century. With the death of your mother and neglect of your father, your sister was all that you had. How well I remember her, remarkable child that she was ... One of only two young women who belonged in Gryffindor her year. Not a thought in her head that wasn't optimistic and cheerful. But she had one very serious concern as I remember all too well...</i>

"Don't talk about Marissa." 

<i>It was you dear boy. Her very much beloved younger brother.</i>

"I said don't talk about Marissa." 

<i>You'll have to learn to talk about her, young one. She is a part of you. Oh yes, she has affected you more than any other person ever will. And not just by her death, mostly by her life. She will always be a part of you.</i>

"Leave her out of this. Just sort me into a damn house and shut bloody well up." 

<i>You resent this place, this castle, this world, for taking her. You would not come here if you had any other choice.</i>

"Does any of this have a point you pompous, overgrown - " 

<i>She loved it, this world, as she loved everything and everyone. But you most of all.</i>

"I said leave Marissa the hell out of this." 

<i>Poor boy, so hurt, so changed.</i><i> She would barely know you now. I hope that Hogwarts teaches you more than spells. For that the best place is</i> "HUFFLEPUFF!" 

* * *

"Okay, Gus, you ready?" Marissa asked him, not sounding very ready herself. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Again she sounded far more nervous and unsure than Mundungus looked. He looked ecstatic, like his every wish was about to come true. "Okay, okay, let's go." Marissa put her hand on his shoulder, her grip very tight, and steered him quickly toward the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. 

A nervous laugh escaped her as Gus flinched at what would have been the impact. Instead they slid through into the new world like a knife through butter, as Mavi would say. Mavi. She would be positively frantic. 

"Welcome to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Gus," Marissa said with a smile, trying to put Mavi out of her mind. Some of her nervousness evaporated at the sight of all the familiar faces. Most of the people were turning to wave at friends. Some were even exchanging late Christmas presents. This was Marissa's gift to Gus. That, unfortunately, brought her back to how very mad this plan was. "You know," she tried again, knowing that she was grasping at feeble straws, "The very fact that you got through to the barrier proves that you're magical ... you'll get to come to Hogwarts in less than two years anyway if you don't - " 

"Riss, you promised!" he interrupted her, prying his eyes off the scarlet steam engine to stare at her with puppy dog eyes in that heartbreaking way he had. 

Marissa pictured instead the look of anger and hate, on her father's face and heard his words to Mundungus louder than his plea. She nodded, "That I did." She thought of Mavi on the other side of the Platform, who would soon start looking around and realizing that Mundungus wasn't there, what horrible things that her father would say to her ... "That I did," and this time she was reminding herself. She'd send a letter. What she would say she had no idea. She wished that she'd already planned that part out. 

"Okay, I've got to go check in at the Prefect's Compartment. A lot of first years haven't branched out to the other houses yet. There are some nice Ravenclaws over there. See if you can stick with them," Marissa told him, her hand on his shoulder. "The Hufflepuffs already know everyone and the Gryffindors and Slytherins are pretty closed groups this year." With this parting advice, she pushed him forward, praying that she was right that the Ravenclaws didn't have any classes with the Gryffindor first years. Even if they did, they were the only realistic choice. 

Now it was Mundungus's turn to look apprehensive. Marissa swung herself up onto the first step of the train with an ease she usually couldn't achieve with her heavy trunk in tow, but she had left it with Mundungus to make him more believable. The problem was that he wasn't tall for his age, and he looked hopelessly young and small for eleven. She turned back to watch him easily striking up a conversation with boys two years older than himself. And the brainy boys, no less, who would have little patience with his ignorance. She smiled, her little brother was a charmer, and certainly a Fletcher. 

After a moment, Marissa remembered that she would hardly want to draw attention to him and turned back into the train car. The Prefect's Compartment was, in Marissa's opinion, less welcoming than the rest of the train. It was, technically, more luxurious with nicer curtains and more comfortable seats, but it was large and the blasts from the very close engine had a habit of echoing loudly in the open space which seemed not to roll with the train as well as the smaller compartments. 

Luckily, she did not have to spend all day in this compartment. She only had to find Remus. It wasn't hard; as her Gryffindor counterpart, Remus Lupin sought her out the moment she entered and guided her to their assigned seats. "Merry Christmas, only a little late," Marissa said, hugging him before they sat down. "How was your holiday?" 

"I couldn't bear to dampen your ever bright spirits with that tale," Remus said, but more reflective than darkly. He often worried that she, who took such offense from his habitual foul moods, would eventually realize that they always occurred the week before the full moon, but she probably wouldn't think anything that dark could happen. 

"You and Peter should talk then, he won't tell me what made the holidays so gloomy for him either," Marissa said and Remus felt like a charge was being laid on him. "And did you send that owl for me?" 

"Yes," Remus replied, reaching slowly for a package from the bag at his feet. It was a box wrapped in bright Christmas paper and tied with a bow. A clever maneuver as it now looked as if they were doing nothing more mischievous than exchanging late Christmas gifts, if that could ever be believed of a Marauder or Marissa Fletcher. However, Marissa was impressed by his tactic. "James says to return it soon and wonders how in the world you knew about it in the first place, but is smart enough not to want to know what you want it for." 

Marissa laughed, "And here I don't have anything for you! Oh, Remus I feel like such a … oh wait! I think I do have something!" She jumped to her feet and hurried out of the compartment. Now all she had to do was find Mundungus. She noticed Igor Karkaroff's wary eyes on her as she hurried out of the compartment but tried not to look even more guilty. 

As a prefect, it wasn't hard to pretend that she was patrolling the halls, but she was beginning to get worried that the Hogwarts Express had realized that Gus had no business boarding and thrown him from the train back onto the platform, particularly when she saw the Ravenclaws she had shown him sitting in a compartment without him. She was almost frantic by the time she reached the last compartment and saw him sitting in it, calm as you please. He was regaling a group of third year Hufflepuffs (a clever move really considering it wouldn't seem odd for him to be shorter than them) with some old story he had picked up from somewhere and holding his audience captive. She'd said it once and she'd say it again, her little brother was good. 

"Excuse me," Marissa said, entering the compartment, "But is this yours?" she extended the gift to Mundungus who pretended to be surprised that she would address him. 

"Thank you, Miss Prefect, how did you get Mum's present?" Mundungus said, his eyes twinkling at her for a moment before going wide to perfect his sham. 

"Don't run off where your mother can't find you before the train even takes off, it won't kill you to say a proper goodbye, she was practically in tears when she asked me to deliver this to you, frantic that you'd go even a moment without it," Marissa scolded him mildly just as she would any other first year. She turned and left the compartment without another word. Mundungus smirked at her back just like any other first year would. 

On her way back, she found Lily Evans. "You holding up, Lils?" Marissa asked, stepping carefully into the compartment. Lily's head was slightly bowed and she was sitting in probably the only empty compartment on the train, staring moodily out the window. "She wouldn't even look at me," she said hollowly, gazing at the families waving last tearful goodbyes as the train jerked into motion. "Petunia used to - to love me, everything about me ... just ... and now..." 

"Sounds like a better scene that we had in September," Marissa said weakly. "She's not over it, then?" Petunia had turned eleven last year, but she hadn't received her letter last summer. She had been screaming and crying when Lily came to board the train. Marissa, from the nightmares she'd overheard, knew that Petunia's agonized cries of "You promised! You promised I could come to Hogwarts! You liar!" still haunted her older sister. 

"She wouldn't look at me, she wouldn't talk to me, she wouldn't even come to see me off," Lily said sadly, pulling her head down into her hands. "She hates me." 

"Now, come on, Lils, none of that talk," Marissa said, instantly sitting down next to her and putting her arm around her comfortingly. "Petunia doesn't hate you, not really." 

"She wouldn't even give me so much as a Merry Christmas!" Lily cried despairingly, looking near tears. 

"But I bet she'd pull you out of the way of a speeding car," Marissa said with a smile. Lily let out a strangled chuckle which sounded more like a sob than anything else, but Marissa took heart from it. "She's just taking it hard. It's a hard thing, to lose your sister and your childhood dream world all in one blow. You made Hogwarts her Neverland, and she was denied it. The bitter taste just hasn't faded from her mouth yet." 

"So it is my fault?" Lily asked in that same horribly hollow voice, peering up at Marissa, ready to believe it. 

"You will never hear me say that," Marissa said sternly. "No. With no ill will, no spite, no intention of hurting her, you filled her head with stories of a place beyond imagination, beyond yours and mine before we got here, but sometimes ... things just don't work out the way we thought. Sometimes for reasons we can't see and sometimes for no reason at all," Marissa said all this quietly, comfortingly. "Truth be told, it might be doing her a favor, taking it like this." 

"What?" Lily demanded. "Doing her a favor? Something that's turned my sweet baby sister so sour?" 

Marissa's faint smile turned away Lily's anger too effectively, Lily often decided at times like this. "The slow decay of reality can turn a person bitter just as easily as a sudden disappointment, and can be even more cruel," Marissa answered calmly, reflectively. "Think about it, every child has a dream world they grow up in, a place entirely of their own making, where anything is possible, even things you never dreamed, and the world is suddenly perfect once you enter it. Muggleborns have it hard. We enter Hogwarts like it's our own personal dream world, but life's far from perfect in this new world. Even if it's full of the things of our wildest dreams, it can never have everything that we ever wanted. For the good and the bad, Hogwarts is a real place. Some people, many of the ones with the highest hopes, take that rather hard. The ones who lose their hopes all in one day get the most sympathy, but losing them one by one can turn a person bitter just as easily." 

"What about the third kind of person?" Lily asked, looking over at Marissa seriously. "Your kind? Who never let go of their dreams? Is there any hope for you?" 

Before Marissa could muster an answer, the door swung open, making them both jump. Remus Lupin poked his head in. "Marissa! There you are! Lizzie warns that you better get in there before she ... makes you breakfast?" 

Lily merely looked confused, but Marissa's eyes lit up with understanding then amusement, "You mean toast, Remus?" Marissa said with a weak smile at a pureblood's take on Muggle phrases. "Can you cover for me, Remus?" he looked highly taken aback by her serious tone as well as her immobility. He had fully expected her to jump up and come running. "Tell Lizzie not to have a cow." 

Lily looked up at her, a faint twinkle back in her eye at Remus's reaction to yet another Mugglism. Marissa and Head Girl Lizzie Walker enjoyed playing this game with the other prefects, particularly Remus and the Head Boy Gideon Prewett. Remus, who had learned some of the rules of this game over his first term in office, seemed to be conscientiously memorizing the phrase so he could repeat it precisely. Then, without another comment, he slid the door shut behind him. 

Lily was the first to speak, the twinkle in her eye diminished but shining gratefully. "You really should go to the first Prefect Meeting of term, it's probably very important," she said, trying to sound as if she didn't really need Marissa there. Just whom she was trying to convince of this was unclear. 

"That's why you should have been the prefect instead of me," Marissa said casually, smiling. 

"And I thought I had it too when you mouthed off to McGonagall end of last year," Lily said, seizing onto the topic almost desperately. 

"I think that's when you lost it actually," Marissa said, smiling in a self-mocking way at the memory. They both chuckled. When they both fell silent, Marissa said, "I have something I have to tell you about Mundungus." 

* * *

Marissa bounded lightly off the train and onto the platform of Hogsmeade Station. She wished that she could see exactly where Mundungus was, but then the whole point of borrowing James's Invisibility Cloak was that no one would be able to see him. Trying to blend in to the crowd was just too much of a liability for a Fletcher, especially under McGonagall's nose considering the only robes that Marissa had where Gryffindor ones. No, the Invisibility Cloak was better, even if it made her neurotic. 

She stayed to the edge of the crowd so that he wouldn't lose sight of her, but had no way to tell if he was keeping up. And then there was the question of what to do if she ran into- 

"Marissa!" James Potter yelled even as he popped out of nowhere and came pelting at her. He picked her up and swung her around in greeting, making her laugh. Then he stood back, running his hand nervously through his hair as he tried to look more gentlemanly as he peered about for her best friend. That was why Lily had not gotten off the train with her. 

Marissa laughed again, yanking his hand down out of his hair, "She's not with me, James, and she's of the opinion you need a haircut anyway." James looked highly affronted, which was of course the only reason Marissa had included the haircut comment. 

Before he could retort, Sirius Black voice roared from the other end of the platform, "WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS SHE I'M GOING TO KILL HER!" and James merely smirked at her. Then Sirius spotted Marissa and, brushing past his current flame without a second thought, came pelting towards her much like James had a moment ago, except that he looked fit to kill. 

James, possibly taking the chance that Lily was watching from somewhere in the crowd milling about, stood in front of Marissa to protect her. "Oh no you don't PRONGS!" Sirius shouted, trying to move past him. "Your Gryffindor chivalry does not extend to the girl who had those giggling first and second years pawing all around the castle on a scavenger hunt that RUINED our exploits ALL HOLIDAY! It was like having all the PREFECTS back in the castle!" 

"Nevertheless," James replied, "I'm going to force you to be a gentleman, Padfoot." 

"Don't be self-righteous with me Prongs!" Sirius shouted angrily, lunging and very nearly getting past him. "Not after all the threats you made when the last item on the list was one of your boxers!" At that reminder, James lost his grip. Whether or not it was intentional is subject to debate. 

However, the real protection of Marissa came in the form of an invisible force suddenly giving Sirius what looked, to the trained eye, like a punch in the gut. It probably was not a very hard punch considering it came from a nine year old and Sirius was used to much more serious forms of Muggle dueling with the Slytherins, but it took him completely by surprise. The unseen force used this surprise to knock him to the ground. 

Marissa and James, who could probably guess something of what was going on, doubled up with laughter at Sirius who was now wide-eyed with fright and trying to duck unseen blows. He was whipping his head around very comically in his search for their source. 

"What kind of new devilry is this, Fletcher?" Sirius demanded, still jerking his head back and forth wildly. 

"Honestly, Padfoot," James said, shaking his head, now also trying to distinguish where the person inflicting the blows on his best friend was standing. "Don't you know that lionesses stick together?" James said, obviously thinking that Lily was the one under the Cloak. 

"Well call whoever it is off, Fletcher!" Sirius shouted in annoyance. 

"Is the great Sirius Black admitting defeat?" Marissa teased. 

"I can't fight what I can't see," Sirius snapped irritably. "Now, please." 

"Since you asked so nicely," Marissa said with a small bow. "Surely, oh mysterious defender of the righteous defenseless," she said ceremoniously in Mundungus's general direction, "The perpetrator has been punished enough for his anger and rash action." 

Sirius waited a long moment after the barrage abated before he moved to stand. Judging by the grunt and massaging of his head, Mundungus had used the opportunity to land one last parting blow on the back of his head. 

When Remus and Peter came up from the train, James was still doubled over laughing. Sirius growled, "Ignore the stag." Peter shot a look at Marissa but said nothing. "How's it going, Moony? Wormtail?" 

"All according to plan," Remus replied immediately. Marissa suppressed an eye-roll with difficulty. The Marauders used that phrase even when they were admitting extreme boredom. "Let's grab a carriage, shall we?" 

They tromped up to the carriages and stuffed all five on them in one, feeling slightly crowded but unwilling to kick just one person out to find their own carriage. Peter had looked rather terrified for a moment when he realized they were too many, apparently convinced that he would be the one sent from their presence. However, it was Marissa who had the real worry. How would she argue for an "empty" seat when they were already overcrowded? 

James came to her rescue, making it into a joke that her "unseen protector" should have the place of honor. "An excellent idea. Come on, let's get in, I hate looking at those horrid horses. What are they anyway?" Marissa got in without realizing that James and Peter were rolling their eyes and Sirius and Remus were looking uncomfortable. 

A few minutes later, they were marching up the stairs and into the Great Hall laughing and talking all at once as if they hadn't seen each other for ages rather than weeks. James and Sirius couldn't resist giving the Marauders who had been Missing-In-Action a blow by blow that made Marissa resort to covering her ears and humming loudly to herself at times. 

When the doors flung open, James and Sirius were suddenly gone. Remus looked about for a moment, then shrugged and hurried up the marble staircase. Peter, not wanting to be left alone with Marissa just yet, ran after him. 

For a moment Marissa was puzzled, then it all became quite clear. Very loudly so. "THERE SHE IS!" Natalie Blaise shouted, causing a huge group of girls to come pelting up to her. Marissa closed her eyes to steal herself for a mess of giggling as somewhere between thirty and forty girls rushed her. 

"Hey! Hey! Quiet!" she tried to yell over them, getting jostled and nearly knocked over. Marissa realized she had to act fast before Mundungus thought that he had to come to her rescue again. She put her fingers between her teeth and whistled loudly. At last, they began to calm down enough for her to shout over them, "All right! All right! I don't know where James is!" Most of them moaned disappointedly. 

"What about ... Sirius?" Penelope Henderson, a Ravenclaw girl with curly brown hair and a boyfriend, asked dreamily. This seemed to be a common sentiment. 

"No, no, I don't know where he is either," Marissa assured them with a roll of her eyes. 

"Well, when are we meeting?" a first year Gryffindor named Suzette Bones but called Suzie Q. asked excitedly. 

"Full fan club this Friday, the new semester's theme song is posted on the houseboard, only registered members can read it, make sure that no busybody tries to take it down, I've already spoken to the house elves," Marissa said quickly, in a business-like manner. "Gryffindor Booster Squad, we don't have a Quidditch Match until the end of term. It'll be such a long absence I want to go over the top. Meeting Wednesday Night, the normal time. Now, break!" 

Marissa hadn't really expected this American football huddle command to work even with the Muggle-borns, but it was the way she felt. If they didn't break off into smaller groups soon, she felt like they were going to snap her in half. "Where are you, Gus?" she said out of the corner of her mouth when they had dispersed. 

"Right here," he hissed to her right. 

"All right, let's go - " she began, but was interrupted by Professor McGonagall calling down the stairs at her. 

"Miss Fletcher, I would like to see you in my office," she said sternly. 

Marissa bit her tongue. Could she have one moment of peace in this castle to get Gus settled? "Now, Professor?" she asked, looking up. 

"Immediately, Miss Fletcher." 

Marissa sighed and struggled up the stairs toward her head of house. "Just stay close, Gus," she said, trying not to move her lips. She was already wishing for an Invisibility Cloak to hide herself under. It was going to be a very interesting term.

©KatyMulvaney


	3. Somewhat Less Than Subtle

**Chapter Three  
Somewhat Less Than Subtle **

Mariella Goring was obsessive about her cauldron. Actually, she was obsessive about just about everything to do with her potion-making stations. Then again, she was a fifteen year old girl doing the kind of research that grown, qualified witches and wizards had been doing futilely for a very long time, all of it under the close eye of both Professor Severus Snape and Madam Pomfrey. Not that Remus Lupin was complaining considering he was her guinea pig. He was actually rather glad that Mariella was so methodical and meticulous about her potions; he was taking them after all. 

But it was still amusing to see her running her gloved hands all up and down the cauldron to check for leaks when she had just prepared another potion (and run the same check) only a few hours ago. He had commented on this once, and she had immediately snapped back that the ingredients she was using were so extraordinarily expensive that a leak could mean much more than that she may have to do the potion over again. However, as long as he stayed away from comments about her quirks, watching her prepare the potions was easily the most enjoyable time he spent at his new "job." Everyone called it that out of kindness, but Remus felt keenly how far he had come from his work at the Ministry after Dolores Umbridge's decree was ratified. 

The actual experiments, Mariella called them "observations," every full moon were nowhere near fun, of course. It was difficult to tell her if things were better or not; it was impossible to compare his past experiences because a human hadn't been sitting in the room with him while he transformed in the past. Then there was the abject terror that her precautions would not succeed, that he would get past the barrier she had set up around the old couch in the Shrieking Shack. Sure, she assured him that she would merely transform into her owl form, but that was a whole new source of guilt. 

He had told her about James, Peter and ... Black's ... animagus forms. She hadn't told anyone, not even Dumbledore, but Remus sometimes wondered if the man guessed why she couldn't get accurate data watching him in her animal form. Remus wondered how much Dumbledore could guess... 

So the only really safe times were when he was watching her prepare the ingredients and artfully manage the cauldron. He had never thought he would think of potion-making as an art form, but the way Mariella Goring did it ... well he appreciated that she was an artist. 

What he liked about the time they spent in the deserted Hospital Wing, however, was that they were talking while she worked. It had been a very long time since anyone talked to him like they truly believed that he was human being. He found himself being honest with her. It had been almost easy, natural for him to tell her about his friends' work and sacrifice. She was the only one that he had talked to about Lily and James and Peter and Marissa. But not Sirius. He didn't doubt that she noticed the omission, but perhaps she understood anyway. Sirius Black was not a pleasant subject, even the memories of the better days. 

Another person that they never talked about was Snape. It was odd, considering that he was intimately involved with every part of the project but the test subject. But Mariella Goring never spoke of him. He had asked why once. 

"Why don't you hate him?" 

Mariella asked confusedly, concentrating on the Shrivelfig she was shredding expertly. "Bill? Are you kidding? He was the first person in the three years to look at me without flinching! I can forgive Weasley for being a prat about my boyfriend." 

"No, Snape." 

Mariella actually stopped slicing. The knife froze mid-stroke. She looked over at him in shock. "Whatever gave you the idea that I didn't?" she asked quietly. She paused, then gave a little shake of her head and added, "And for that matter, whatever gave you the reason that I should?" 

"You have more reason to hate him than we ever did," Remus replied. "Don't even try to tell me that you don't blame him for your parents' death." 

"All right," Mariella replied. "I won't." She looked back down at the counter and began to slice again. "And, yes, of course I hate him for it." 

"Then ... then how do you do it?" Remus asked, unable to keep back the question that had burned within him since they began the project. "I mean, work with him or even learn from him? He tutors you almost nightly, not to mention helping you research and design the potion each month. How can you even stand to be in the same room with him for Potions class?" 

Mariella stopped working again and answered, "I forget it after awhile when I'm around him." 

Remus stared mutely at her. "How do you forget something like _that?_ " he demanded. 

"I have no earthly idea.  I guess it's just that ... it's just that ... I know that my parents weren't good people. I have no illusions as to that. They were Death Eaters. I'm coming to grips with it," Mariella said, a shudder running through her. "I realize he's not a bleeding heart like Dumbledore; he's the kind who'd realize that it would be better if they were dead ... but still I can't..," she trailed off for a moment. Then she said unexpectedly, "I caught him wincing once, when I was beheading caterpillars. He's not kind, but he does have a sense of honor and a kind of courage. It's extreme and prejudiced, but it's a sense of right and wrong nonetheless. Hard to see, perhaps, but still there. Somehow I just, I just can't make myself look at him and think that he would let my parents die without trying hard to make myself remember it." 

"It's funny," Remus said. "You and me both, we're the first to accuse Severus Snape of indirect murder, but in the end we're the first to disbelieve it." 

"Well, he's a complex one, almost as complex as this potion," Mariella replied clinically, returning to her work. 

"Kind of like our little matchmaker, how _do_ you know Mundungus Fletcher, Mariella?" Remus asked. 

"Funny you should use that term, 'matchmaker.' It's a long story, Dung's and my friendship. Suffice it to say I introduced him to his brother and his wife," Mariella replied. "That's why he figured he owed me, anyway." 

"Ah, yes, the future Mrs. Joy Fletcher, lovely woman. Friend of Bill's, didn't you say?" Remus asked. 

"Yes, from Brazil, sent him a hat last year that did such things to his hair!" Mariella laughed reminiscently. 

"And you took Dung to see Harry?" Remus said more seriously. "How did that happen?" 

"Harry gave his cousin, I think it's Dustin or Dudley, Dragon Pox," Mariella explained. "And of course, Harry could throw it off, but his cousin ... well, I used the excuse to let Mundungus see the boy who would have been his brother. That was disaster, care to hear the story?" 

"Summarize it for me," Remus replied.  It may have sounded dismissive, but most Mundungus Fletcher stories were best told in soundbites.

"You know the comics _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_?" Mariella asked, sounding highly amused. Remus nodded slowly. "The first issue is actually the story of a man taking a baseball bat to some Christmas carolers in a nice, quiet neighborhood..." 

"No!" Remus cried in surprise. 

"I'm afraid so. Took me half an hour to calm them down after I subdued Dung, and once I had almost convinced them that he was a mental patient not usually dangerous, in comes Petunia and starts screaming like crazy that I'm a witch," Mariella laughed, shaking her head at the memory. It was just barely long enough ago to be funny rather than awful. "And can you believe he justified himself 'They said "Merry Christmas, Gus"'? Petunia was screaming for an hour even after I ushered the carolers away until the Ministry arrived and calmed her down." 

"So Petunia hasn't changed, then?" Remus asked. 

"I don't know, what was she like before?" Mariella countered. "Dung's certainly changed if he ever was the way you've described him, though. That's for sure." 

* * *

McGonagall's face was stern, but Marissa could still distinguish both lips, which she took to be a good sign, even if they seemed a shade thinner than usual. She tried to tell herself that they always looked like that after a few weeks without seeing them. If she hadn't been so nervous about Gus she might have convinced herself. 

"Miss Fletcher," she began once they were seated. "I have been informed that you took it upon yourself as prefect to organize the students left behind in Gryffindor Tower over the break." 

Marissa was utterly bewildered. She smiled uncertainly, wondering where this was heading. "I have further been informed that one such activity you arranged was a scavenger hunt," McGonagall continued sternly. 

"If that is true, which I do not admit," Marissa replied smoothly, glad that the conversation was in a realm that it was safe to visit with the Professor, "I would never include anything dangerous in the scavenger hunt and would have, hypothetically of course, included instructions to obtain all the items within school rules." 

"Yes, I'm certain that you would, allegedly," McGonagall said, what looked to the practiced eye like a smile tugging at her lips and to the unpracticed eye like she was glowering at Marissa. "And after perusing the hypothetical list that you may or may not have given the Gryffindor girls who were staying behind," she drawled sarcastically.  Marissa was rather proud of her.  "I have determined that none of these objectives, as you do not admit to have called them here, are for a malicious purpose or against school rules, as you so correctly state. However, the final item..," Now a smile was definitely tugging at the corners of her lips. "Call me strict if you like, but it appears to be an invasion of privacy." 

Marissa looked over at the list, staring down at the final item. Written in what her teacher of five years must surely recognize as her handwriting, were the words, "James Potter's boxers." Marissa tried very hard to meet her head of house’s eyes after glancing down at this list. "Out of curiosity, just who is it turned me in?" Marissa asked, not quite looking up at McGonagall. 

At that moment, a book toppled off of McGonagall’s shelf unexpectedly. Marissa endured a brief moment of utter panic before McGonagall bellowed, "PEEVES! OUT!" She tried not to look too relieved when McGonagall turned back to her and asked her to put the book back up on its shelf. Hoping that Mundungus had had the sense to move and would have the sense not to be so nosy from now on, Marissa did so. However, glancing at the title she could scarcely blame him, although _Hogwarts, A History_ was unlikely to provide him with any of the interesting, or rather illegal, information that Mundungus would appreciate. Marissa smiled to think what damage Gus could do with the knowledge that the Marauders had. He would have been a terror if he had been one of them. 

"Returning to the matter at hand," McGonagall said, staring reproachfully at a spot of thin air (hopefully empty thin air) that she thought might still contain Peeves. "The complaint was made anonymously, but Mr. Potter has since claimed that twenty pairs of his boxers have gone missing." 

Marissa snorted. McGonagall looked up at her, her mouth going very thin. "I'm sorry," Marissa said, giggling as she said it. "It's - it's not funny, I'm not laughing," she said, struggling unsuccessfully to suppress her chuckles. "It's not remotely funny I don't know why I would laugh I apologize." She tried to hold it in but snorted again a moment later. McGonagall sent her a very stern look, but even it could not hold back her irrepressible giggles. " _Twenty?_ " she stuttered, "There aren't twenty people in Gryffindor Tower at Christmas, much less the girls I gave the scavenger hunt to ... oh." At the realization, Marissa could not suppress yet another chuckle. "Just how many pairs of boxers does he have? _Twenty?_ " 

"Apparently he has far less now that he did before Christmas," McGonagoll said sternly, but though her mouth was very thin, Marissa thought that the fact that the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts was discussing James Potter's boxers with her house's prefect was not lost on the old Transfiguration professor. Marissa tried desperately to stop giggling and suceeded this time, but couldn't keep the quite unhelpful smirk off her face. "Which you will be required to replace." 

"I don't have a lot of Potter worthy boxers lying around in my room, Professor," Marissa replied daringly. "Or galleons. Will the Muggle equivalent of either do?" 

"This is a very serious matter, Miss Fletcher," McGonagoll reprimanded her. "You will make reparations to Mr. Potter or see to it that every ... item, is returned promptly. In the future you will restrict any activities, especially those to take place in your absense, to those which inconvenience no one else. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes, ma'am," Marissa replied, trying her best to look chastized rather than amused. 

"Good," McGonagoll replied tersely. "Now, you may go. Be more mindful of private property in the future, and I trust we'll never have to have this conversation again." 

"Thank you, ma'am," Marissa said. She held the door open for a long time, until she was absolutely certain that she felt Gus brush past her. Once outside she heaved a sigh of relief. McGonagoll didn't know about Gus yet, and she hadn't even gotten a detention for the scavenger hunt. All in all, it was not nearly so bad as she had expected. 

It was as she was heading down the corridors that the discussion hit her again, causing her to fall into a fit of giggles that caused many odd looks to be directed her way. A mysterious force seemed to be causing the overtly hostile to drop their books or trip unexplainedly. All in all, Marissa and Gus's journey through the school was far from subtle. 

Considering, it was almost surprising that they made it to the Day Star Room without any further trouble. The original purpose of the Day Star Room might have been anything from scientific to romantic. The small, circular ceiling was enchanted much like the one above the Great Hall. However, instead of showing the sky outside as it really was, it showed what stars would have been seen if clouds or the sun didn't block them from view. Looking up at the ceiling at noon, one could see the stars that no one ever saw, because they came out only during the day when the sun shone too brightly for them to be visible. As far back as anyone could remember, it had served as a kind of ad hoc dormitory, not that anyone officially slept there. Professor Sinistra was known to use the room for catnaps during experiments or observations or to do research on the skies that no one else would ever see. 

"I like this room," Gus declared, gaping up at the "sky" above him. "It won't ... it won't rain on my in here will it?" he looked up at her so earnestly that Marissa had to bite back a laugh. 

"No, Gus, you'll be all snug and dry in the worst of storms," Marissa replied. _Which may be what's in store for us,_ she added silently. "Do you like it?" Gus merely turned to her with eyes wide with amazement. Marissa laughed in understanding. "Well, it's a bit small, and if you get cabin fever in here I'm not sure how we can relieve it ... the only really safe time to take you out anywhere is at night and that's just about the worst time to be wandering around the castle," Marissa warned him. He looked up at her in confusion. Hogwarts was heaven, how could there be any problems with heaven? She smiled to reassure him. 

"How did they make this room, Marissa?" he said, staring back up at the ceiling with wonder. 

"Well, according to that book you were trying to steal from McGonagoll," Marissa added dryly. "The Astronomy teacher Professor Sinistra's husband made it for her almost forty years ago for their first year anniversary. She was obsessed with the night skies to the point that he caught her frowning up at the sun, resenting it for hiding the stars that came out during the day from view. So he made her this room. Reportedly it took him over half of their first year of marriage, but she loved it." 

"Ah that's mushy stuff," Gus waved the charming tale aside. "What I want to know is how did he do it?" 

Marissa grinned. Just like a boy to be interested in the mechanics of it rather than the motive. "If I knew that I wouldn't have to worry about two and a half more years of school, now would I?" she countered his question, ruffling his hair. 

"Do you think you could find out how?" Gus asked her excitedly. 

"That would take a very long time, Gus," Marissa said steadily. "Which I don't have to spare with you to take care of. But if you want, I'll sneak you a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ so you can look up something about it." 

"Cool!" he replied enthusiastically, still gaping around at the room. 

Marissa smiled to herself, knowing that he would have lost interest in the question long before she could get any books to him to research it for himself. 

* * *

Lily was waiting for Marissa when she entered her room at long last. "Did you talk to McGonagoll?" she asked sharply before Marissa could even greet her. Marissa nodded. "And is Mundungus. . .here?" Lily continued, sounding very upset about something. 

"You of all people should know that a boy couldn't get up the staircase, Lils, no he's not staying here, however much I'd like that. I set him up in that little spare bedroom near the Astronomy Tower, you know, Professor Sinistra's hideaway," Marissa replied, setting down her purse and plopping down on her own bed without fanfare. 

"Brilliant, Riss, the number one snog spot in Hogwarts!" Lily said, sitting up on her bed, looking almost as stern as McGonagoll. 

"Afraid it'll cramp your style, Lils?" Marissa teased, kicking off her shoes. Lily gave her a very unappreciative look. "My, my, I do believe we've found the one look that does not look appealing on the glamorous Miss Lily Evans: sour annoyance." Lily looked about to make a furious retort, but Marissa cut her off, "Come now, Lils, think. Mr and the future Mrs Jackson Abbot got caught kissing in their last month, causing our esteemed and well-meaning professors to seal the room. The sudden epiphany of the glaringly obvious to the staff makes it quite undesirable for desiring students, and the professors, dear, misguided souls that they are, believe that their enchantments are sufficient. Silly dears, don't they realize who they're dealing with? So I have, in fact, installed Gus in the one place in this castle where no one is likely to go." 

"So he's there now?" Lily asked, sitting stiffly straight up and almost glaring at her. Marissa glanced at her best friend, then nodded in the same non-chalant way she had acted throughout the entire conversation. "Good, because we need to talk," Lily said, staring down at her seriously. She appeared to be assembling herself for a calm, rational discussion in the moment she took a deep breath, but when she opened her mouth a yell came out, "ARE YOU CLINICALLY INSANE?!" 

"No, not clinically. 'Technically insane' however is debatable - " Marissa returned lightly but more warily than before. 

"You kidnapped your little brother and brough him with you to Hogwarts!" Lily cried, her tone one of question and extreme exasperation. "Did you do a vanishing trick with your marbles and lose them completely?" 

"Why do you need some?" Marissa replied, waving her wand and causing a cascade of marble to tumble down from the ceiling. Their canopies were protecting them, but Lily looked furious. 

_"Stop them now,"_ she replied dangerously. Marissa shrugged and waved her wand, mumbling the  counterspell quietly enough that Lily wouldn't be able to hear it. After a moment's staring contest with her incensed best friend, Marissa picked up one of the stray marbles on her bed and extended her hand toward Lily. She let out an inarticulate cry of frustration. 

Marissa pulled her arm back and gazed down at the marble as she spoke, "I don't like the word kidnap, Lils. It implies I took him against his will, that I didn't take him to a better place than he was before. I helped him run away." 

"Oh, you just helped him run away, did you!" 

"Calm down, Lils." 

"Calm down Lils!" Lily shrieked, obviously losing it completely. "Have you any idea what it is you've done?" 

"Yes, and I think it's quite safe to say that I have a far better understaning of exactly what it is I've done than you do, Lily Violet Evans," Marissa returned snappishly, or as close as Lily had ever heard her come. "Now will you calm down and let me contemplate just how deep I've gotten myself in without drowning in your yelling?" 

Lily calmed down only slightly. "You're in way over your head here, Riss. Even for you."

"I know, Lils, I know, believe me I know," Marissa replied pacifyingly. "But there's no turning back now." Lily slumped a bit, relaxing onto the bed. 

For a minute, silence reigned in the room. Then Marissa shifted and pulled James's cloak out of her robes. "Will you take James's cloak back to him for me? It was one of his conditions for letting me have it." Lily made a very disgruntled noise. "He likes you, Lily, don't take it like an insult." Lily grunted again, not in agreement. "You can tell him off when you do. . ." Marissa enticed her temptingly. 

"The damned voyeur," Lily mumbled with a bit of her own spirit back, taking the Invisibility Cloak from Marissa. 

"Be subtle, Lily!" she called after her as the door closed. 

* * *

"Riss there are a bunch of giggling first years down in the Common Room waving around stuffed vulture hats and living miniature griffin models screaming for you?" Lily said as she swept into the room. 

Marissa grinned and rolled off the bed, landing on her shoes and sliding into them. "Sure you don't want to come? If you knew about McGonagoll I bet you've heard what the last item on their list was?" 

Lily sighed and didn't respond. She grabbed her Transfiguration book (her favorite subject) and sat down on the windowseat to read it. Marissa gave her a smile that she didn't see and flitted out the door without disturbing her. 

The moment she entered the Common Room, she was ambushed for the - what? third? she was losing count - time that day. This time she was at least expecting it. "So I take it you all did the scavenger hunt?" Marissa shouted over the excited babble. 

There was a great roar off cheering that she took for a yes. "All right. ALL RIGHT!" she yelled to get their attention. Another person would have been uncomfortably aware that the whole of Gryffindor Tower was watching the preceedings with expressions varying from amusement to derisiveness, but Marissa was aware only of the very conspicuous absense of all of the Marauders but Remus who had seated himself in a corner and was reading (Potions, he was atrocious at it and always trying to study it in his spare time). "If you all turn in the - ahem - final item on the list I'll be able to determine who won the Hunt." 

There was a mad scramble during which everyone, at some vague point in the confusion, handed her a pair of James Potter's boxers. "Okay," she said when they had all begun to back away, "Ready to meet the winner?" They all nodded eagerly. 

Marissa took out her wand pronounced grandly, "The Winner. . .of the 1976 Gryffindor Yuletide Scavenger Hunt is. . . _premio_ _ comenzo_." One pair of boxers, a black, simple one thank goodness for all concerned, rose up from the pile and floated over to one gleeful looking girl who gave a great cheer and jumped up and down in her excitement. 

Marissa clapped for her and soon the entire Common Room was cheering good-naturedly for her. "Congratulations to Sarah Portman!" Marissa cried over the ruckus, lifting her arm aloft in triumph. "For your prize, you may keep any of the Scavenger Hunt items that you wish as a trophy a-a-a-and. . .twenty galleons prize money!" 

"Twenty galleons?" Frank Longbottom demanded indignantly. "Cheap, are you, Fletcher?" 

"I won't take that from you, Longbottom!" Marissa returned. "Not unless you're willing to pitch in the extra galleons to make up the difference." 

Frank almost scowled. Then he smiled, his grin jolly as he went for his purse. Marissa sighed, it was a great goal in her life to make Frank Longbottom frown. It would give her almost as much pleasure as seeing him finally admit his feelings for Alice Watterbe. She only had two years left, but she was determined that both would be accomplished before he graduated. 

"Get the boxers!" the girl next to Sarah cried excitedly. Everyone laughed. "I'm serious!" she shrieked over them. Everyone laughed again. 

"You can have it. Everyone else, see if you can get Frank to fund a second and third place cash prize," Marissa said with a mischievious glint in her eye. 

She used the opportunity to slip off to Remus's corner with James's remaining boxers still in tow. She sat down in the armchair next to him and pointedly closed his book. "I have a proposition for James and Sirius, and I need you to play messenger boy for me," Marissa replied. "Afterall, you're the only one of the Marauders who I trust to be honest about a transaction of this nature." 

"I already got you one of our most secretive treasures for you, and you send Lily to return it quite embarassingly. Selling them on any loan will be very difficult just now," Remus replied, flipping through the book trying to find his place again. 

"Not a loan so much as a trade," Marissa replied. "You see, I have in my possession what I have previously been informed by no lesser an authority than McGonagoll herself is every single pair of underwear that James Potter possesses. And while he may be getting by for a time, I have the feeling he would very much appreciate having them back. Now, I know that he quite desperately wants these back rather than cash compensation because however understanding Mr and Mrs Potter are, I don't think they'll appreciate the request to buy him an entire new set of boxers that are being bankrolled by his female friend." Remus looked up at her in surprise, looking appreciative of her twisted mind. "And the next time any of you boys go to McGonagoll about me remember that I have enough on the lot of you to keep you in detentions every night until the end of the year." 

"It's interesting to hear you threaten us, the Golden Girl of Hogwarts and all," Remus said with a smile, marking the page he appeared to have finally found. 

"Who me? I'm quite happy to return your friends pants, but I want something in return." 

"So what do you want in return for their return?" Remus asked, looking over at her. 

"I want James and Sirius' mirrors," Marissa replied. Remus choked and goggled at her. "I know what they can do, and I want to borrow them, rest assured I'll return them." 

"Regardless of whether you'll return what you want in return for the return of the. . .items," Remus replied. "Oh hang it all, Marissa, I'll come right out and ask, how in the world do you know about all this? Just how many of our supposed secrets do you know?" 

"You really don't want to know that answer, Remus, at least not yet. Take my offer to your friends, and tell them they'd do well to accept my terms," Marissa replied, standing. 

"Just what do you want them for, Riss?" Marissa smiled mischieviously and Remus decided that he didn't really want to know afterall. 

* * *

"Hey Prongs," Remus said, plopping down on his bed a few minutes later. "Here's a question I never thought I'd ask: do you want your underwear back?" 

All three of his fellow Marauders stared at him. "What we're all interested to know, Moony, is who you have asked that question of," Sirius replied immediately. 

Remus rolled his eyes and plowed on. "And here is question I _really_ never thought I'd ask: what are you willing to do to get your underwear back?" 

"Oh now you're just teasing us, Moony, c'mon, give us a hint who he - uh, she was!" Sirius replied mercilessly. "If you don't we'll be forced to guess." 

"Bottomline, James," Remus continued, pretending that he could not hear Sirius beginning to list those he believed Remus may have used the line on, "Marissa has all of your boxers, but refuses to return them unless you lend her yours and Padfoot's two way mirrors." 

"Has she bloody gone wacko?" Sirius exclaimed, not realizing he was the second to do so in the past half hour. "After what she's put us through? She's got to be nuts, she knows McGonagoll's got her over the barrel!" 

"She wants the _mirrors?_ " James exclaimed dumbfounded. "How the bloody hell does she even know about all this? And she expects favors after showing Lily the Cloak? Now she's convinced I've used it to spy on her in the loo or something! And she wants our mirrors!" 

"Basically," Remus replied evenly. 

"That's some nerve!" 

"Well, she made provisions for it, if you were of that opinion," Remus replied, glancing down at his rather longer than necessary nails rather than at his friends. 

All three turned to look at him with interest and slight alarm at that. "What does that mean, Moony?" James finally demanded indignantly. 

"Oh wake up, Prongs, you know she doesn't bust us for half of what she realizes is going on, by the Philosopher's Stone she's known about the Cloak for Merlin knows how long!" Remus snapped, looking up at him. "And isn't it just like Rissa to keep a record of everything she's let us off for to blackmail us with when it's necessary to make us do the right thing?" All four Marauders were looking very sober at this. 

"She wouldn't dare," Sirius said confidently. 

"If that's the risk you want to take," Remus said carelessly, knowing that Peter and James would take the bait at least. 

James appeared to be thinking very hard, which was not a very good sign for Marissa Fletcher at the moment. "All right, I say lend her the mirrors." 

Sirius made an outraged cry of protest. " _Lend,_ Padfoot, _lend_ ," James assured him. "But prank her so silly she'll wish she never knew that they existed." 

So that was the gleam in his eye. "No way, Prongs, we're talking about Marissa here, we stop sparing her and soon enough we'll be turning on eachother," Remus tried desperately, looking to Peter for support. 

"Well, I vote for starting a prank war, it's not like we stand any real chance of losing," Sirius replied with ill-disguised excitement. 

"That's two votes, Moony, a Marauder almost-majority," James replied. 

"You and Sirius together only count as one vote, remember?" Remus snapped back at them. 

"Why's that?" James demanded. 

"Because you always vote the same," Remus said with the air of one extending patience on a three year old. James and Sirius looked at eachother for a minute, then shrugged and nodded in agreement. 

"All right Peter, all up to you then," James said, turning to him, his very expression putting pressure on poor Pettigrew whom they all knew hated being put on the spot like this. 

He cleared his throat nervously, afraid of upsetting any of his friends. Then the memory of the look on Marissa's face when she pulled away, that shock that proved she had not known him so well as he had always thought. He remembered how it felt to have his lips against hers and have her not responding in the least, and he made his decision. "Let's get her."


	4. Blackened or Burnt?

**Chapter Four**

Blackened or Burnt?  _My, my, my, this is going to be an interesting year._

"So even you think Dumbledore's crazy for letting me come here?" 

_Your parents shouldn't have said that._

"How do you know that they -” 

_There's not a thought within your head the Sorting Hat can't see. Hm, that's a good line for next year's song._

"Well if that's true that you should know that they didn't mean for me to hear!" 

_But they shouldn't have thought it at all. You do belong here. And magical objects as old as me do not make mistakes very often._

"I don't want pity from a hat. I don't want pity from anyone. You don't have to feel sorry for me." 

_Is that how you will treat all overtures of friendship? If so you are not suited for Hufflepuff._

"Look, there's only one house a monster like me could be suited for. Just put me in Slytherin already and get it over with." 

_Is that what you want?_

"What happened to 'not a thought within your head the Sorting Hat can't see'?" 

_I want to hear you say it._

"I want to be in Slytherin." 

_It's no use lying to a being such as me, young man._

"Fine. No. I don't. But I'm not exactly fit for anything else, am I? Can you put me in Gryffindor, where the brave people who kill things like me belong? You've already ruled out Hufflepuff, and you're right. Loyalty isn't my strength. I'm a lone wolf. And Ravenclaw? What would someone like me do in Ravenclaw but be found out? I don't belong in any of the other three houses." 

_But you do not belong in Slytherin._

"Congratulations, you've stumbled onto the story of my life. I don't belong anywhere." 

_Is that what you think?_

"That's what I know. I'm a werewolf for howling out loud!" 

_You're clever … and brave to speak of the demon that torments you. I'm sorry, but I cannot in conscience place you in Slytherin. You will have to learn how to accept life as a_ "GRYFFINDOR!" 

 

* * * The hand off of the mirrors took place at breakfast the following morning. By lunch, the battle lines were clearly drawn. However, none of the Marauders had the slightest guess who Marissa was talking to on the mirror that she kept in her purse. This was originally their main objective. It had become quite obvious that she had somehow already given the second mirror away when whoever it was tried to call her during Transfiguration. Not that they had been very sorry for the diversion in McGonagall's class. Then again, Sirius was seldom happy outside of Care of Magical Creatures, and what James really had a gift for was Charms, dead useful with all that they got up to.

Despite a valiant effort involving Honeyduke's specialty honey and caramel, this was the stickiest spot that Marissa was in all morning. They were not deterred. Not by a long shot. They were annoyed, to be sure, but truth be told, Remus rather admired Marissa for the look of startled surprise which she always held just long enough to satisfy James and Sirius before breaking out into a good-natured smile and laughing it off as she tried to right herself and anyone else who had been inconvenienced. After the first week, Remus suspected that the original source of the feud had been quite forgotten in the desire to see Marissa truly flustered by a prank. Personally, it was a relief to Remus that she didn't run off crying like some of their targets over the years had done. However, the secretive nature of the Marauders was not to be underestimated. 

One of the things that Remus thought quite likely to save Marissa before she sustained real harm (the sprained ankle she got when a prank backfired didn't count as she'd been up and about in an hour) was the fact that without her strict control, which the boy had not fully realized that she enacted on the girls before this time, James and Sirius's bloody fan clubs were getting right out of hand again. For every potion they slipped into her drink to raise her voice several octaves, one or even a group of girls would ambush James or Sirius in a semi-deserted corridor and try to "talk" to them. Without Marissa providing an outlet for their, ahem, admiration, one girl had even succeeded in gaining access to the Marauders' private sanctum and dropped off a love note complete with photograph. The first few days, they seemed to be taking this as in stride as Marissa was taking their increasingly vicious pranks. However, as the second and third week wore on, Remus's trained eye could tell that they were sick of it, even if Marissa had yet to weaken. Only an extreme sense of Gryffindor pride kept them from making peace with Marissa to end the barrage which had made it an equal war. Remus was just glad that another Gryffindor virtue, namely chivalry, seemed to be keeping them from doing anything too horrible to her. After all, he had refused to have any part of the campaign, and he usually served as their screening process for plans. 

In what the Marauders (and everyone else who recognized their target) believed was a tactical decision to avoid an obviously targeted region, Marissa stopped eating her meals in the Great Hall. Usually Lily still ate there alone, refusing adamantly to give anyone the slightest hint as to where Marissa had gone. She was also nearly impossible to find most of the afternoon nearly every day and often did not return until late at night, barely making curfew. As everyone but Lily thought she was trying to avoid the worst of the Marauders' tempers by a very simple tactic: not be there for them to prank, it was the perfect cover for spending time with Gus, time it would otherwise have been very difficult to account for. 

As is the unfortunate nature of every tactic used against the Marauders, Marissa's elusiveness backfired. It gave them an idea that would prevent any future prey from every avoiding them so effectively. They were already deeply emersed in the creation of what they considered the first true Map of Hogwarts Castle and Grounds, complete with all the secret passages they had discovered. Marissa's extraordinary and continuous success at hiding from them suggested the idea of enchanted ink: ink that would mark the progress of people in the castle. Remus would have thought it a great idea if it didn't come at the expense of his fellow prefect's already shaky peace being jeopardized once again. 

James, with his remarkable aptitude for Charms, was already very close to a solution. 

Such was the way of things the first month of the new term. It was on a Saturday that the explosion Marissa barely managed to keep just below the surface first seriously threatened to erupt. It started very small, but then, such things always do. 

"Bee in your bonnet, Remus?" Marissa called, coming up from behind him in the Great Hall. Remus jumped, startled. He mentally checked off the whereabouts of his fellow Marauders: James - Quidditch practice, Sirius - looking for girls, Peter - looking for Sirius. Good. Mistaking the intense look on his face for confusion, Marissa explained, "Sorry, another Muggle term. What grim matter is on your mind?" 

"You shouldn't be out in the open with all my friends gunning for you," Remus replied, turning to look at her. 

She looked amused. "Where, Mr. Pureblooded wizard, did you learn a term like 'gunning for me'?" Marissa asked, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. 

"Honestly, Riss, with you and Lizzie throwing all kinds of Muggle terms in our path for half a year you don't expect the rest of us prefects to have picked up any of it?" he said with a smile. 

Marissa did not respond to this comment beyond a small smile. She was looking at him searchingly. "You say your friends are the ones gunning for me. Do they consider it a treachery that you've been helping me?" Remus looked up at her in surprise, unaware that the schism of the Marauders had become obvious. "If you're going to give me credit for teaching you Muggle phrases, don't deny me the credit of a simple observation." 

Again Remus said nothing. "You've had it hard, haven't you?" she asked, still looking at him as if trying to work out a riddle that was written in his eyes. Without waiting for an answer, she walked to the stairs and turned back to where he stood, "Why don't you come with me?" she said, making a snap decision. "I'll make you supper." 

"You'll - what?" Remus said, stumbling after her out of pure curiosity. 

Taking this for agreement, Marissa turned and started up the stairs, going slow enough that he could quickly catch up and walk alongside her. "Well, how did you think I was keeping from wasting away? You know I haven't been taking meals in the Great Hall, and I still haven't been able to coax the location of the kitchens out of you lot," Marissa replied. 

Remus had to confess that he hadn't realized this. He had just assumed that she'd been getting food from the house elves down in the kitchens, but then, the house elves seemed to be a sore spot with her most of the time. "So what have you been doing?" he asked, full of curiosity for this newfound mystery. 

"All in good time, Remus, all in good time," she replied with the mischievous smile that had become her trademark. She was leading him up their third flight of stairs, looking utterly unconcerned when it began to change and move while they were on it. In fact, she looked quite pleased when it landed them in a seldom-used, virtually deserted part of the school. "It's only two flights up from here," she told him, quickening her pace slightly, anxious to get there. 

"Wait a minute," Remus said slowly, "That would take us right by Boris the Bewildered's corridor." 

Marissa very nearly stopped dead. She looked over at him in surprise, her mouth slightly open. Then she shook herself, chuckling slightly, "Serves me right. Never underestimate a Marauder's knowledge of this school." Without another comment, she plunged ahead again, taking them unerringly to the corridor that housed the tapestry of Boris the Bewildered, the unfortunate man who though trolls well-suited for ballet. While most students merely found this amusing, Marissa seemed disappointed that such a rare man (brute enough to train security trolls but refined enough to appreciate the ballet) had not been successful in his unorthodox venture. She seemed to have a soft spot for such people, the hopeless causes. Then again, she was so full of hope and joy, it must be impossible for her to conceive of a hopeless case. 

She stopped right before they reached the tapestry of Boris the Bewildered. She proceeded to do something very strange. She closed her eyes as if in concentration, and walked back and forth across the bare stretch of wall three times. The third time, a door appeared. She opened her eyes, not looking surprised to see it there. Remus, however, was shocked, "You know how to work the Room of Requirement!" 

Marissa did something very disconcerting then. She laughed at him. The mirrors, the Cloak, the Room of Requirement, just how many of the Marauders' supposed secrets did Marissa Fletcher know? This was no throwaway question for Remus Lupin even though he was on Marissa's side in most of the interactions between her and his friends. Just how deep had her "infiltration," as they boys had taken to calling it, penetrated? As James had pointed out many a time when he protested, Marissa finding out their smaller secrets could lead her to uncover their big one. And, as much as he liked Marissa Fletcher, Remus Lupin was the last one who wanted that to happen. In fact, it was because he liked Marissa Fletcher so much that he wanted her to be ignorant. 

"I probably understand it's uses better than you lot," Marissa replied. "It's not just a Stop And Go, you know. Thank Merlin the teachers seem to think so at least." She walked to the door and held it open for him. 

Remus stepped into a largish kitchen that looked like it would comfortably accommodate anywhere from one to five chefs. Most of the appliances Remus was fairly familiar with, some of them only because he had seen pictures in his Muggle Studies book. Marissa went through the kitchen, apparently checking for everything she might need. All of the ingredients were of a very fine quality no doubt straight out of the Hogwarts pantries. Then again, there were some spices that were highly unlikely to be found in any British pantries, even as esteemed ones as Hogwarts'. 

What was most interesting to Remus was the door on the opposite wall. Remus, in all his various experiences with the Room of Requirement, had never seen it open into another room or corridor. He was about to ask Marissa what she had requested that the room do for her, when the small door flew open. 

"Rissa!" a young boy shouted excitedly, bursting through it and running full tilt toward Marissa who laughed and closed her arms around him. She looked up over his shoulder for Remus's reaction. Considering how many surprises he had had in the last quarter of an hour, Marissa was beginning to wonder if his eyes could go any wider. She pulled away from the boy and turned to Remus, holding his hand. "Remus Lupin, I'd like you to meet Mundungus Fletcher, my little brother," she said softly as Remus watched Mundungus's eyes go wide. "Gus, this is my friend Remus. He's going to help us make dinner today." 

There was a ringing silence in the kitchen as the two boys stared at each other. Marissa seemed to be experiencing a moment of self-doubt. Had she been insane to tell Remus? "Well," she said briskly, "I suppose it's not going to just spring out of the cupboards and start fixing itself, now is it?" She pulled her hair back into a graceful but careless knot at the back of her head and fished out three aprons from a small drawer near her. She held out two pink ones to the two boys. 

They stared mutely from them to her. Then Remus laughed uncertainly. Marissa quickly joined in, and just like that, the awkward silence was broken. A few minutes later Gus was demanding imperiously what they were going to cook. Marissa threw out several ideas, none of which sounded very familiar to Remus, but Gus vetoed each one. "Oh just tell me what you want to eat then!" she cried in exasperation, appealing comically to Remus for sympathy. 

"Chicken enchiladas!" Gus cried enthusiastically. 

"You didn't want to be easy on me, did you, small fry?" Marissa sighed but smiled and began to pull ingredients down from shelves near her. Gus recognized this as agreement and began to jump up and down in celebration. A moment later, he seemed to recover himself due to the presence of another guy. It was one thing to act six around just Marissa, but to act like that around a stranger. . . 

"Pull me a chicken out of the icebox, Remus, and I'll explain about Gus," Marissa said, turning to him. Remus was struck by the glow that surrounded her, the light in her eyes that he could only explain by the presence of her younger brother. He hurried to obey, stumbling through the icebox until he found a good sized frozen chicken. While Marissa set it to boil she told Remus (with occasional asides from Gus) about Christmas at her house and what had led to her decision. He was silent the entire time. 

Marissa set the boys to grating a huge block of mozzarella cheese as she tended the pot on the stove and explained how they had snuck Gus onto the Hogwarts Express. She had just finished telling him of her encounter with Lily when she took the chicken out of the pot and added a great deal of green tomato sauce to the pot in its place. "But there's one thing I don't understand," Remus (who was still grating cheese) said. "How did you get into the Day Star Room? The teacher's sealed that place up tight. Even James and Sirius haven't been able to get in, and you know how they get about something like that when they consider it a matter of pride." 

Marissa shook her head, "You boys," she replied. "For all your talent, you never really think outside the box. I take it James has been beating his brains in trying to overcome those enchantments, Sirius just wants to fly in through the window on a hippogriff, Peter tried to spy or trick it out of one of the teachers, and you tried a few supposedly powerful spells; then you all called it a day. Honestly, don't you realize what this room does?" She looked at him expectantly for a moment. Remus tried not to concentrate on the fact that she was almost exactly right about their specific approaches to the problem and try to figure out what she meant. She sighed, "Anything you ask it to." she answered her own question, "I just told this room that what I needed (very badly) was a door into the Day Star Room. And the room provided. It's not so much breaking their enchantments as finding a . . . backdoor in." 

Remus was impressed. And he had a feeling that all the Marauders would be impressed. Not that he intended to tell them. Let them think of it on their own. They thought they were so clever after all. No, they were showy and flashy. Marissa Fletcher was a true genius for breaking and entering. 

"What is this recipe?" Remus asked as Marissa began to tear the chicken into small pieces and place the pieces back into the simmering pot. "Did Gus say ensaldas?" 

Marissa laughed. So did Gus. Remus was struck by how similar the laughs sounded. They didn't look particularly alike, but their voices, as Gus's hadn't changed yet, were very close. "Enchiladas," Gus told him importantly. "Mavi makes them. She says they come from Texas." 

"Well technically, I think they come from Mexico, but Mavi, our cook back home, never lived there. Before she came to England her family migrated between Louisiana and Texas. So she cooks us all sorts of Mexican and cajun foods that no one else ever knows how to cook properly here. That's where I got this recipe," Marissa explained more helpfully. "I've got to admit, they're fabulous, for foreign food that is." She looked Remus up and down again. "Might be a bit spicy for you though. . ." she sounded worried rather than insulting. 

"I think I can handle it, Riss," Remus replied automatically. Nothing was ever "too" anything for a Marauder. It was their cardinal rule. Mostly, nothing was "too" dangerous for a Marauder, but it applied to just about anything anyone could claim against them. Pride ran very strong in the Gryffindor boys. 

"You're just lucky I haven't quite got the hang of chili or blackening yet," Marissa said with a laugh. Remus let it go as the comment was not exactly an argument. 

"Sounds like only Sirius would like the idea of 'blackening'," Remus replied. 

"It's a cooking technique, Remus," Marissa replied. "But speaking of Blackened, there's something I've been curious about for a long time and -” 

"And as you've shared such a big secret with me, you think you're entitled to ask for one from me?" Remus cut her off. 

"Honestly, no need to be so suspicious, Remus," Marissa replied. "I'm not going to pry. But there's something that I think Lily and I have both deserved to know for a very long time. Now that I have you off away from the rest of the cult of secrets, I thought I'd try my luck at some answers." 

"Marissa, I don't know if I can tell you Sirius's secrets," Remus told her almost sternly. 

"I actually want to know one that belongs to Lily," Marissa replied. Remus immediately understood what she had been driving at and was immensely sorry that the pleasant conversation had stumbled into this dark cloud. "If it's any comfort to you, I won't be telling her about it unless I feel it's my duty as her friend." 

"When would it be your duty as a friend?" Remus asked cautiously. 

"If she was ever about to do something that I happen to know that she shouldn't," Marissa replied, not looking at him but rather religiously watching the pot as she tore off another bit of chicken and dropped it into the pot. 

"Now, do you really think that that's likely to happen anytime soon?" Remus asked, dropping the cheese and turning to look at her. 

Marissa put the last bit of chicken in the pot and likewise turned to face him. "I've been encouraging Lily about James, Remus. I need to know if I've been right to do so." 

Remus looked her in the eye, and she met his gaze unflinchingly. Gus watched them curiously. "You want to know if James really did ask Sirius to break up with Lily last year," Remus finally said aloud. Marissa looked back at him for a long moment before she nodded. Remus sighed and looked down, "I can't understand how Lily thinks that, really, much less you, Riss." 

Marissa set the heat on the pot and sat down in a chair near the counter. "Remus, if I believed it already I wouldn't be taking such measures towards his improvement. I wouldn't be talking him up to Lily. I wouldn't be encouraging her to give him a chance. But I need to know what I'm up against. Why does Lily think that?" 

"For all you've said that prettily, Marissa Fletcher," Remus replied more gruffly than he intended to speak, "You still want to know if it's true." 

"I don't think James would do such a thing, but I've been wrong about people before," Marissa said simply, with no apology. 

"It's James, Marissa," Remus said, looking at her. 

Marissa smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." The relief in her voice was almost tangible. 

"He'd never even say anything to his best friend about his feelings for his girlfriend," Remus said still defensively. Marissa smiled almost proudly. "We could all tell something was wrong though, and Sirius in particular knew it must be something bad when he refused to tell us. Then, one night, when we were brainstorming the Valentine's day Sirius should plan for Lily. . .well, let's just say it was James who knew all the little things that she would like. He'd suggest something, very quietly, without his normal gusto. It was very sincere, like he wanted his best friend to be happy even if he couldn't get excited about it. Then he'd have this perfect reason for it if we questioned it. Sirius kind of looked at him funny, like why did he know so much about his girlfriend? Why was he watching her so closely to realize that she never ate chocolate desserts? And that most of her jewelry was silver and wouldn't match the gold chain he wanted to buy for her?" 

Marissa gave a slight smile. "Why wouldn't she eat the chocolate desserts?" Gus asked incredulously. 

"Well, the point isn't even that James knew these things and Sirius didn't. It's that Sirius realized that James knew the things he didn't," Remus continued. "I think it was eating at him all day, he was very quiet. Then he comes into the room with that look in his eye like he's got something he wants to prove. And he announces that he's finalized the menu for the dinner he was planning for Lily. In here, actually." "Let me guess," Marissa said, "He was going to try to sell her on the fact that he cooked it?" 

"He wouldn't be Sirius if he didn't," Remus rolled his eyes. "He could have gotten the props at least." 

"Girls can always tell, Remus. I know you boys think we're stupid or something, but believe me she would have been able to tell," Marissa laughed, shaking her head. 

"They didn't have dinner?" Gus asked. 

"Well, Sirius is spelling out the menu, and he gets to the drinks. All he was going to get was tea. Well, James couldn't stay quiet at that. He gently asked, 'Are you sure you don't want to get something else, Padfoot?' and Sirius replies all slyly, 'Na, tea's good for Lily.' They'd still be together today if James had rolled his eyes at Sirius's cluelessness like Peter and me, but James spoke up. He said, 'Lily's never drunk tea for anything but Divination in four years, Sirius, haven't you noticed that?' And then Sirius turned to him and said, 'No, but you have, Prongs. And that's why you should be dating Miss Lily Evans.' " 

"He broke up with her the next day," Marissa stated. 

"The conversation wasn't over quite that quickly. James covers his face with his hands and groans. 'Am I that transparent?' I think he said. He and Sirius have it out for a long while with Peter and me too scared to mediate. Then Sirius explodes, 'Damn it, Prongs!' Oh, sorry Riss. I'll edit it for Gus. 'Don't pull that sacrifice - crud - on me, not when it's obvious to everyone here that you're in love with her!' I think it was the first time since we entered that room that we were all in there and you could have heard a pin drop. Sirius had more to say too, 'And I don't love her, Prongs. I never did. You do. There's just something so wrong with this. Let me fix it.' " 

"Sirius is a good guy," Marissa said quietly. "He did care about Lily a lot. He might have loved her someday." 

"But not the way James was already in love with her," Remus replied. 

"No, never like that," Marissa agreed. 

"Enough mushy stuff!" Gus cried in protest. Both Marissa and Remus laughed. 

"Then we could talk about how you got banned from Hog’s Head when I took you into Hogsmeade last weekend,” Marissa said with a stern look at him. He immediately looked abashed, but it was mostly for show. “Or here’s another idea, Gus, why don't you go get all the ingredients for the pancakes while Remus and I finish talking? Then you won't have to listen. And I won't have to get mad about you giving me the slip and getting into so much trouble.” "Pancakes?" Remus said in confusion. "From what I've seen of these enchiladas. . .are you sure about this, Riss?" 

"What are you talking about, Remus? The enchiladas are for tomorrow," Marissa replied. Seeing the look of utter confusion on his face, she explained, "They taste better if you freeze them overnight then put them in the oven. So we're having them tomorrow. And didn't you wonder that we were making so many? I'm going to send off some to the Boneses. Goodness knows Amy won't want to be cooking now." Amy Bones and Anna Prewett were once the Jacobs twins who had graduated Hogwarts five years ago. Anna had been Head Girl and married the Head Boy Fabian Prewett. Fabian and his brother Gideon, the current Head Boy, had been tracked by Death Eaters. They had eluded them so well that they attacked Fabain's family instead. The brothers had come home from their Yuletide hiding place to find the Dark Mark over his home. Anna and her new son were dead. "If you come back tomorrow you can help me make the side dishes to send off, then we'll eat the rest of it." 

"I suppose you'll want my owl to help carry it too?" Remus asked cynically. 

"Actually, I was only planning on putting you out as far as taking the enchiladas down to the kitchen and convincing them to store it overnight," Marissa replied nonchalantly. "Meet you tomorrow at noon?" 

"Why do I get the idea that you'll hunt me down if I don't show?" 

"Sounds about accurate. But there's one thing I still want to know." 

"The location of the kitchens?" Remus guessed. "Because if that's the case then I want to know the full story about Gus and the Hog's Head thing." 

"How does Lily know that James is the reason Sirius broke up with her?" Marissa replied to his slight surprise. 

Remus, who had thought that they had left that topic behind, sighed heavily. "Well, as we all know, Sirius did not break up with Lily properly." Marissa shook her head sadly at that, turning back to stir the still simmering pot with almost a frown on her face. "She really thought that he was just being Sirius Black, panicky about commitment and all. She thought they'd be officially back together in a month when he came to his senses yet again. But then. . .well, you saw most of it. She'd lean her head up against his shoulder or snake her arm across his back, thinking it would be normal soon even if it was weird now, and Sirius would look at James and just about take her arm off jumping back from her. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Sirius didn't want James to see them acting like that. Lily just took the assumptions one step farther." 

"The things she started saying about him," Marissa said, still shaking her head. "The worst was actually the most logical. She could go on all day about how conceited he is. . .and she's not too far off the mark now anyway, but she was furious that they would discount her own feelings. I said once that it was almost sweet of both of them to want their best friend to have the girl they loved even if it meant they wouldn't and she would be happier. Big mistake. She screamed that why should they get to decide for her who she got to be with? Didn't her feelings count for anything?" 

"She does have a point there, but this feud with James is getting seriously out of hand." 

"No pun intended?" Marissa asked, looking back over her shoulder. 

"Well, what have you been doing about the feud, Riss?" Remus was very interested to know this. 

"I'm not exactly an expert of staying on speaking terms with you Marauders, now am I?" Marissa countered wryly. "So I'm just trying to reconcile Lily to her fate as far as Sirius is concerned. I got her to speak to him again, and now they're back to being friends. I've just got to get James to deflate his head enough for her to take him seriously before I make any headway there. While he's still going around acting conceited she's got a very good case against forgiving him for being presumptuous enough to plan her love life for her." 

"Your mind at ease about your quest at least?" Remus asked. 

"It's quite a relief, let me tell you," Marissa replied. 

"You know, it'd be a relief to me if we could get the Marauders off the warpath against you," Remus said. "If you told them about Gus - " 

"No." 

"We can keep a secret, Riss, it's not like we'd run to McGonagall or any - " 

"No." 

"Riss -" 

"No." 

"You didn't even let me ask yet!" Gus cried in protest. 

"Oh I'm sorry, Gus, what do you want?" Marissa said, spinning on her heel to talk to him. 

"Chocolate chips in the pancakes," Gus said somewhat timidly. 

"You got it, Gus," Marissa replied. "Speaking of which, you got the tortillas?" 

Gus handed her a package. She opened it, took one look, and handed it back to him, "Flour tortillas, Gus, not corn. Go back," she said, spinning him around and giving him a slight push in the direction of the pantry. Once he had turned back, Marissa turned to Remus, "I want James and Lily to be together. They seem to belong together, and everyone deserves someone who will make them feel like that. They got off to a horrible start, I'll grant you, but I'm not going to let them give up. Afterall, true love is a chance you only get once." 

"That doesn't seem fair, what is something happens to one of them?" Remus asked. 

Marissa smiled slightly. "I didn't say they'd never love again, that they wouldn't be happier with someone else than alone. I just mean that real love, honest to goodness love is something that only happens once in a lifetime. You can't have two soulmates. You can be happy with more than one person, but there's only one person out there who will make you feel like you've finally come home." 

"You're a hopeless romantic, Marissa Fletcher," Remus laughed. Marissa threw a wooden spoon at him. Dodging it nimbly (five years of living with a Quidditch star who couldn't bear to stop practicing would make you quick on your feet), Remus asked, "So when did you decide that James and Lily had that kind of love?" 

"About a month before she broke up with Sirius," Marissa replied. Taking in Remus's surprised expression, Marissa laughed, "Didn't you ever wonder why she wouldn't speak to me for about a week? I was on his side! Can you imagine anything more horrible? That I'd want her to be with the boy she holds to the highest standard of all you four?" 

"Um, Riss. . .are you sure about that?" Remus asked uncertainly. "I'm pretty sure she hates James." 

"You all have the same faults, Remus. Why can she forgive them in you, Peter, and Sirius but not in James?" Marissa pointed out cleverly. "I've lived with her for five years, I know when she's kidding herself." 

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't lump me in with James and Sirius thank you very much," Remus replied. "Not when I'm sticking my neck out to be your defender." 

"Oh you don't have a fan club for me to have to manage, but you're no less proud than either of them. You reacted just like they would have to the knowledge that I had thought of something for the Come and Go Room to do that you hadn't," Marissa replied, taking the tortillas from Gus who had returned. She began to add chicken to them and place them in a pan. 

"Marissa, I don't have girls diving at me in corridors - " 

"Oh you and Peter both!" Marissa cried in frustration, nearly scalding herself as she filled a tortilla. "You really don't get it do you? Your approach is different, but you all have something that makes you a cut above extraordinary." Remus still looked highly doubtful, so Marissa continued, "Truth be told you all probably could have pulled off the bad boy image, but only Sirius really goes with it. Then there's James with the star power, air of celebrity to set him apart. Peter's the boy next door, and you're a sensitive romantic much like you just accused me of being." 

"And from your attempt to blind me a moment ago, I guess I shouldn't assume that that's a good thing," Remus replied. 

"It's not, it's icky," Gus added utterly seriously. "There's no better word for it. It's just sick. Girls are sick." Marissa cleared her throat loudly. "Like I said, all girls are icky." 

"Why you!" Marissa cried, making a grab at Gus who danced out of her reach. "You just wait until I catch you!" She proceeded to throw her spoon down and dive after her brother, chasing him around the kitchen for a few minutes until their grievance was entirely forgotten. Laughing again, she gave him a hug that lasted a long moment. A very long moment. 

Too long of a moment for Gus. He began to wriggle out of her grasp. "All right, all right," she sighed. "I'm still getting used to the fact that I can see you any time I want," she said as she released him. 

Gus made a great show of backing away in disgust at the hug, and his foot landed on the wooden spoon. The moment he put his weight on it, it slid out from under him, making him loose his balance. He did not fall cleanly. He flung out his hands to try to regain his balance. His right hand landed on the burning stove. If it had landed elsewhere he might have managed to right himself, but he immediately jerked his hand up. This motion did two things: it removed his last support sending him crashing down onto the ground and caused one of the pans of hot enchiladas to land on top of him, covering his face. It was difficult to tell who screamed louder: brother or sister. 

Gus was flailing about pointlessly in pain, and Marissa was not being much more useful by trying to wipe the burning away with her bare hands. Remus, thankfully, kept a cool head and pulled out his wand. He immediately banished the burning enchiladas, then moved to pry Marissa off of her brother. It was difficult to tell who was crying more. Gus seemed to be trying very hard not to cry as he cradled his bright red hand. Marissa also seemed to be trying to calm herself down and suppress the tears falling freely down her face. After a long moment where Remus was unsure what to do next as Gus was obviously still in pain, Marissa turned to him. "Help me get him to Madam Pomfrey." 

From the look in her eyes, Remus knew that she understood exactly what that meant. 

"I know a shortcut," he said quickly, helping Gus to stand. They both hurried him forward, running through the halls of Hogwarts which (luckily) were deserted as nearly everyone was taking advantage of the fresh fallen snow to enjoy their time off outside. "No, this way!" Remus yelled suddenly, steering Gus toward what appeared to be a solid wall. 

"Remus, are you sure about - " but they were already through into a small, little-used passageway that opened only two doors down from Hospital Wing. "Damn you're good!" she cried, pushing Gus forward the rest of the way. Just outside the door, she turned to Remus, "Go back to the Common Room. You were there all afternoon." 

"Marissa - " 

"Go, Remus. There's no reason for you to get into trouble for this," Marissa said, her gaze downcast. 

Once he had left, Marissa opened the door and ushered Gus quickly inside. "Madam Pomfrey!" the urgency in her voice brought the matron hurrying out of her office and across the Hospital Wing until she stopped in front of the youngest boy whom she had ever had to tend at Hogwarts. 

"What happened?" she said officiously, looking at his burned face and hand. 

"He was burned," Marissa replied. "I was cooking, and he touched the stove." 

"The face will heal cleanly," Madam Pomfrey said calmly after a moment, "But the hand I'll have to apply potion to before I heal it with a spell." 

"Do whatever you have to," Marissa urged her, hovering helplessly next to the pair of them. She watched similiarly as the matron waved her wand almost carelessly and healed the wounds on his face then applied a pungent potion to his hand. She took Gus's other hand so that he could squeeze it as they waited for it to dry so that Madam Pomfrey could heal it as well. Still she had said nothing about the fact that Gus was underage and did not have on a Hogwarts uniform. 

Then Madam Pomfrey neatly healed the wound, leaving the hand looking as if it had not suffered anything worse than a slight sunburn. 

"Stay here, both of you," she said once she was done applying another layer potion. "I'll get you the potion you need to rub on your hand twice a day." She swept into her office. Marissa snuck quietly after her, leaning against the door. 

"Professor Dumbledore's office," she heard her order her fireplace. 

"Good afternoon, Poppy. It is not in vain, I hope, that I ask if this is just a sock call?" 

"Sock call, Headmaster?" Madam Pomfrey said in confusion, for the first time since Marissa and Gus entered truly flustered. 

"Nothing more serious than having only one sock of each pair come back from the laundry, Poppy," Marissa heard Dumbledore's voice through the door. 

"It's rather a matter of finding one too many, Albus," Madam Pomfrey replied. "There's someone down here I think you need to see." 

Marissa moved quickly away from the door. She signalled to Gus as she moved toward the exit. "What about the potion?" Gus asked her as she took his arm and hurried him out of the Hospital Wing. 

"Good point, accio!" she said, pointing her wand back at the door of the Hospital Wing. The next moment, a small bottle of light blue potion was in her hand and they were back in the secret passage that Remus had shown them a moment earlier. 

 

* * * "In here quick!" Marissa urged him forward, shutting the door behind them. The candles immediately turned themselves on, but Marissa waved them off. She faced Gus for a moment. Both were panting, and neither of them dared to speak. It had proved unsafe to remain in one place, even a secret one, for very long with the entire Hogwarts Staff and almost every prefect joining in the hunt for them. Marissa was particularly determined that Remus would not find them as he was sure to want to try to help them and get himself into trouble as well. "I think we can rest here for a minute," she said, looking about the small, cold stone room somewhere near the North Tower.

"Riss," Gus said in a small voice. "I'm scared. I don't want to go home." 

"Come here," she said, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead. "I told you, remember? I'll do whatever I have to, but you will not be in danger from him for another minute of another day. Understand me?" 

"Yes," he said quietly. 

"Good. I think I know where it'll be safe for you to spend the night, if we can get there," Marissa said, sitting down on the ground up against the wall. A moment later, Gus sat down next to her. There was a long silence where, though neither would say it, they were both listening for the sounds of pursuit. "There one thing that I need to know, Gus. Did he ever hit you?" 

There was an even longer pause. "No." 

"Did he ever. . .do anything else that was bad to you? Ever make you do anything that. . ." 

"No, Riss. He never did anything like that," Gus said. 

"He never hurt you?" she confirmed. 

"Just with words," he said in a small voice. 

"That's bad enough," Marissa told him. 

Again silence engulfed them, but not so silent as before. They could hear what sounded like footsteps just a corridor or two away. Because of the the echoes it was difficult to tell which side that they were on. "Damn it!" Marissa cursed under her breath. Then she turned to Gus. "It's late, Gus. We've been doing this hours, and we may be here for awhile. Why don't you see if you can get some sleep? It's not very comfortable, I'm not the greatest at cojuring stuff like this but I think I can manage a sleeping bag." She took out her wand and waved it carefully. A lumpy green sleeping bag and pillow appeared a moment later. 

Gus pulled them over and curled up to take a nap. "Riss?" he asked tentatively. "Will you sing me Mom's song?" 

Marissa crawled quietly over to where he was sleeping and ran her hand gently through his hair. Gus had never heard their mother sing this song, he only knew it because she had sung it to him when he had trouble sleeping when he was little. She sang in a soft whisper. Hers was not the greatest voice to ever grace Hogwarts, but it was full of sincerity and sweetness. And the lullaby eased Gus into sleep long before she finished it. 

_"When the darkness surrounds you, sweet dreamer_  
Remember my words to you:   
Sleep and your dreams will speed on the dawn   
And banish the night all around you.  
Sleep, sweet dreamer,   
And dream of a world where everything is as it should be   
And all your hopes have come true.   
Sleep, sweet dreamer,   
Dream of danger, dream of love;  
Dream of anything and everything   
And things beyond what words can say.  
Sleep, sweet dreamer,   
Dream of white shores that lie across a sea;   
Dream of a ship that sails beyond the stars   
And ends right back here with you and I.   
Sleep, sweet dreamer,   
And dream one for me   
Carry back the tale of what our world could be.   
Sleep, sweet dreamer,   
For when you have dreamt   
You will see the skies are brighter and the darkness is through,   
So sleep, sweet dreamer   
For dreaming is the greatest thing your heart will ever do." 

Marissa leaned over her brother and kissed his brow. "I love you, Gus." She lay awake for several hours before deciding that the coast was clear and floating the sleeping Mundungus in front of her to a safer hideaway. 

* * *

©KatyMulvaney4-13-2004


	5. In Her Mother's Place

**Chapter Five  
In Her Mother's Place**

 

The grand house was decked out to the nines for Christmas. It was obvious from just a quick glance around the foyer which of the decorations were the work of Jerome Fletcher and which were the work of his wife. Mr Fletcher's additions to the decorations ranged from ornate, over-large false Christmas wreaths and draping strings of evergreen tied off with gold bows to delicate crystal icicles that hung from the chandelier, but all were designed to impress. They favored gold and silver of the finest quality and nothing that would leave harsh pine needles sprinkling the floor. Mrs Fletcher's decorations, in sharp contrast, favored warm reds and the bright green so seldom used in refined designer decorations. She was the one who playfully placed mistletoe over the doors (there was really only one sprig of mistletoe but it seemed to migrate, sometimes even several times during the course of a single day). In fact, all of her decorations had something odd about them,or at least, not quite what you would expect. They could never be said to be doing anything _wrong_ or even abnormal, but they never seemed to be quite what they ought. Most found it amusing, however vaguely they were aware of it. Some found it unnerving and avoided the Fletcher Mansion during the Christmas Holidays.

One would have thought that it would have created a horrible clash, these two quite different purposes and styles of bringing Christmas cheer to the house, but instead it presented a house that seemed far more complete. The two supposedly opposing designers turned out to complement each other instead. The Fletcher Mansion at Christmastime was a personification of their marriage. 

The comparison broke down when their daughter began to contribute homemade ornaments, mostly of her mother's variety but occasionally an obvious attempt to imitate something her father had purchased for the house. These ornaments were destined for the small Charlie Brown Christmas tree in the kitchen. This was a gross misrepresentation of the Fletchers' devotion to their only daughter. Mrs Fletcher devoted her entire life to the precious creature and even Mr Fletcher, who even then possessed workaholic tendencies, was infamous at the office for dropping everything to rush to the aid of or to witness a triumph of his daughter's. 

In a fashionable neighborhood of gossips, political marriages, and business tycoons, the Fletchers were a poster family for old-fashioned family values and a simple, loving home life. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher were still as desperately in love as they had been when they had first married, living in a small flat in one of the worse neighborhoods, and it was not hard to decide that the young parents loved their daughter even more than they loved each other. 

Mrs Jerome Fletcher, whom even her most recent acquaintances knew as "dear Livy", was a tall, stunning woman with a regal quality about her. Even at nearly eight months pregnant, she was always known to be up and about, never seeming to have lost her natural grace. She would not permit Jerome to talk her out of attending the Christmas Eve Mass for a trifling thing like the inconvenience that it would pose to her. Her long brown hair was done up expertly and her clothes, accommodating for her bulging stomach, were both expensive and stylish. She was sweeping down the stairs with an ease that few women could manage at the best of times. 

All this would have made her a rare person in any circle, particularly the one she frequented. What made her unique was the way she was sweeping down the stairs humming "Up On a Housetop" as her bright blue eyes scanned the foyer excitedly. 

"Out jumps good old Santa Claus!" Jerome Fletcher sang out, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her, both their hands resting protectively over her belly. Livy laughed; it was a gay and careless laugh that had touched many a heart. 

She turned to face her husband, still in his arms, and sang softly, "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus." Her husband grinned at her. "Underneath the mistletoe last night..." She kissed him. "Now go get ready, I'll find Olivia." 

Jerome Fletcher's eyes sparkled as he looked down on his wife. "As you say, General!" he replied smartly, turning to head back up the stairs. He paused at the top, gazing down at her lovingly but worriedly. "General?" she turned to face him as he asked nervously, "How's our next baby?" 

"No worse that five seconds ago, Jerome Fletcher, honestly!" she laughed up at him, shaking her head. "Stop worrying, will you? How many times has the doctor told you? There's no reason to believe the birth will be as bad as Olivia's was. And besides, wasn't she worth it, the little darling?" 

"Yes, dear, you know best, dear," Mr Fletcher intoned. "No more arguments, General." 

"Don't be sarcastic when you say that, Jerome Fletcher!" she called after his retreating back, still laughing. Then she turned and continued down the stairs. "Now where, oh where can Olivia be?" she called playfully in mock wonder. 

There was an unmistakable giggle from behind the Christmas tree. "Hmmm. . ." Mrs Fletcher said, walking slowly toward. "I don't know where she could have gone!" Then, with reflexes to rival Quidditch stars, she faked going one way around the tree and caught her daughter running around the other way. "Here she is!" she cried as she closed her arms around her. 

"Are we gonna get baby now, Mummie?" the girl, who looked like a miniature version of her mother except for her hair, squealed excitedly, immediately forgetting that a moment ago she hadn't wanted to be caught. 

"No, darling, not yet," Mrs Fletcher laughed; it came to her as easily as to her six year old daughter. 

"Soon?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. 

Mrs Fletcher laughed again. "Yes, darling, soon, soon," she cooed, kneeling to look her in the eye. "But it's Christmas now and we're going to church. We need to get you ready, darling." Then Mrs Fletcher tried to stand, "tried" being the operative word. Crying out in pain, she collapsed back down. 

"Mummie! Are you hurt?" the girl cried, obviously distressed. "Did you get a booboo? Want me to kiss and make it better?" 

"No, darling, go get your father, hurry," Mrs Olivia Fletcher said, biting back a groan until her daughter was up the stairs and out of earshot. Livy had lied to her husband. Everything was not all right, but she knew that there was nothing a Muggle doctor could do for her. She had been lucky the first time. Her hands found the small six-inch stick of wood that was her beloved wand. She wondered anew if Mr Ollivander had understood all those years ago that she would someday have to hide it. He had looked as if he had. But she never thought that it would be her husband that she had to hide it from. 

She had tried to tell him once. She ended up putting a memory charm on him to make him forget it, hating how it changed the way he acted around her. It was the last magic that she ever performed in his presence. She had been happy; she couldn't complain. She would have wanted to be a housewife and mother anyway. Why not do it the Muggle way? She hadn't performed a single spell in years. But when she found out she was pregnant again, she started carrying her wand with her again. She had known how dangerous it would be for both her and her son. She remembered one spell, one spell that she knew she must say when she felt that pain in her stomach, the one that meant that all was not well. It was worse than it had been with Olivia. Far worse. There was no coming back from this feeling. And what was more, Livy Fletcher knew it. 

"You'll make it, Gus, I promise you. You'll make it through. Just hold on a little longer," she whispered to her abdomen. "I love you." She took her wand in her shaking hands, a feeling of warmth spreading to the tips of her fingers just as it always had ever since she had gotten it. It was a comfort she had long forgotten, and would never feel again. _"Dio e col mio bambino per posso non,"_ she whispered, waving her wand at her belly. "Jerome!" she shouted, feeling its effects immediately. "Olivia! Come quickly!" 

Her daughter reached her first, flying down the stairs with no regard for the perils of gravity. She seemed to understand that her mother was in danger, even if she did not understand from what. Or perhaps it was the panic in her mother's voice that stirred in her small heart. "Oh, my darling," she cried, taking her child in her arms. "Oh my babies, I love you. I love you." 

Jerome Fletcher took in his wife's limp arms as they tried to reach for him and their daughter, the dullness in her sparkling eyes, and he also knew. As he knelt over her, the look in his eyes told her that he understood as much as he ever could. He bent down beside them, enfolding both his wife and his daughter into his arms, holding both of them for the last time. Ten minutes later, Mrs Olivia Fletcher was at a Muggle hospital. She never returned. The sparkle, so like the one in her daughter's eyes, went out of the gray eyes of Jerome Fletcher that day. And it never returned.

* * *

"Let go of me, Karkaroff!" Marissa shouted, shrugging him off. "Geroff!" she shouted as he grabbed her arm again. "Let go of me!" 

"Marissa Fletcher!" the last voice Marissa wanted to hear said sharply. Marissa turned to Professor McGonagall, who looked as if any moment the sparks would start to fly she was so furious. "Do you have any idea what it is you have done?" she said, looking at her in disbelief, staring her down. Marissa wished she could be more composed, but Karkaroff had her arm in a vice-like grip and was holding it up higher than she would have liked, forcing her into an awkward posture. 

"Now really, Karkaroff, there's no need for that," Remus said, striding quickly forward. "Let her go." 

"Mr. Lupin!" Professor McGonagall cried sharply. Karkaroff had no sooner smirked at him than she shouted, "Mr. Karkaroff, both of you!" They turned sharply to face her. Marissa was staring down at the ground. "Leave us. Miss Fletcher and I have much to discuss." 

Marissa jerked her arm out of Karkaroff's grasp, glaring at him momentarily before sitting down in the chair in McGonagall's office. The moment the door closed behind the two boys, McGonagall snapped, "On your feet." 

Marissa stood without protest, not looking up. "Look at me," she said forcefully. Marissa did not look up immediately. "Look at me," she repeated angrily. Marissa met her eyes. "I want to hear from you." There was silence for a moment. "I want to hear from the girl I made prefect of Gryffindor House that she not only broke fifty of the most sacred school rules, but that she broke Wizard and Muggle Law!" 

"Professor McGonagall, I - " Marissa started, bowing her head again. 

"I don't want to hear a word of excuses! Do you have any idea what you did to your father?" Marissa's head jerked up. "Oh, didn't you think what this little game you and your brother were playing would do to him? He's been worried sick, calling policemen and offering rewards! He's contacted Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic asking for help because of your status! The man who raised you, Marissa, is this how you repay him?" 

"He ... he was looking for Gus?" Marissa's tentative voice said softly. 

"Yes, you ungrateful little - how could you do this? How could you, Marissa?" McGonagall yelled at her. "A model student for five years! A prefect! You were so responsible! I never dreamed you would do anything so stupid and selfish and utterly irresponsible!" 

"I believe that's quite enough, Minerva," Dumbledore said, entering the classroom. Marissa, who had been hanging her head under Professor McGonagall's fire, felt like she wanted to sink through the ground. Tears were stinging at her eyes. "Come with me, Miss Fletcher. There's someone in my office with whom it's high time you spoke." 

Staring glumly at her feet, trying desperately not to cry, Marissa shuffled after Dumbledore feeling like a prisoner on her way to execution. It was a very long walk to Dumbledore's office, and both were silent the entire way as their footsteps echoed loudly and sinisterly in the empty corridors. 

Dumbledore hadn't so much as looked at her since he came to get her in McGonagall's office. His silence was worse than McGonagall's screaming. Worst of all, he whispered his password to the gargoyle, as if to indicate that she would not long be a prefect with that privilege. 

They rode up the winding staircase in silence, but just before they reached the door he turned to look at her. This was worse than anything yet, even the thought of Gus going back to _him._ He looked down at her for a long moment until Marissa was sure that he was going to say something. Instead, he just opened the door to his office and waved her inside. 

"Have a seat, Miss Fletcher," Dumbledore said, not unkindly. However, there was a disappointed tone in his voice that was far worse. Marissa did so, willing herself to sit up straight and not hang her head. Dumbledore sat down in his chair and turned to regard the young woman before him. There was no doubt that she was different from any other that he had ever seen in this office, or even this school. Even her mother. Dumbledore remembered her mother; she had Marissa's hopefulness without her burdens. Even so, the laughing eyes of Olivia Nelson were unmistakable in her daughter. 

They were looking back at him almost proudly, forgetting the shame that she had worn on her face a moment ago. Marissa was the sort who could be strong for others sooner than she could be strong for herself. She was one girl that Dumbledore most wanted to believe would never do something like this unless there was some colossal misunderstanding. And, from his conversation with Jerome Fletcher, there probably had been. "Yesterday afternoon," he began sternly, "you brought a very strange patient to Madam Pomfrey." 

"Gus isn't strange," Marissa said automatically. 

"So I do not miss my guess," Dumbledore said quietly. "We have all been quite preoccupied about the whereabouts of your brother. 

"Yet none of you thought to tell me he was missing," Marissa said angrily, knowing it was insane to be upset about that. 

Unless she was much mistaken, some of the twinkle was back (briefly) in Dumbledore's eyes at her comment. "Your father was of the opinion that Gus's well-being was of little matter to you, the same opinion that you appear to have of him," Dumbledore said calmly. "But you have both proved each other wrong, you see?" 

"No," Marissa said harshly. "With all due respect, Professor, all this proves is that my father cares about what it would look like if he didn't look for his son. I know you like to think the best of people, but - " 

"I have known you to be guilty of this same fault and virtue, Miss Fletcher," Dumbledore said pointedly. "But now you have given up hope on the one person that I most hoped you would find it in your heart to trust. Tell me, did you father ever harm you or Mundungus?" 

"Not physically, if that's what you mean," Marissa said regretfully. "He didn't have to," she added quickly as if this would make it more believable. 

"I see. So there was never any physical abuse of you or your brother?" Dumbledore asked, momentarily sounding like an inquisitor rather than a kindly headmaster. 

"No, Professor, he never hit us," Marissa said quietly and quickly as if this would make it less noticeable. 

"I see," Dumbledore said again. "In that case, neither of you have grounds to appeal to Hogwarts as a Haven. I'm afraid under wizarding law he has committed no abuse, certainly not to the extent that your brother would have to be removed. As such, I'm afraid that your brother cannot remain at Hogwarts." 

"I understand, Professor," Marissa replied in a very different voice, a strong one. She stood calmly. "I thank you for all your kindness over the years. I doubt that I'll be seeing you again after we've left the school." 

"Sit down, Miss Fletcher," he said, his voice low but quite serious. 

"Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore," Marissa said, extending her wand to the wizard. 

"Sit down, Miss Fletcher," he repeated, and this time his voice held anger. Marissa, seeing that he was not going to take her wand, dropped it onto the floor of his office and walked to the door. The moment she put her hand on the knob, however, she leapt back with a cry of surprise and pain. The next moment her wand rose off the floor and hovered near her chair as if waiting. Marissa looked back at Dumbledore who was regarding her calmly. Apparently, wandless magic did not require great emotion from him. Or perhaps he was very angry indeed about her decision. "Have a seat, Miss Fletcher." 

For almost a full minute, they stared each other down, Marissa all but glaring at him and Dumbledore looking back calmly. Then Marissa walked slowly back to the chair in front of his desk and threw herself down into it. She looked at the wand for a very long moment, and then looked at Dumbledore without taking it. It remained there in midair, both student and Headmaster apparently determined to ignore it for the present. "You can't stop me from leaving Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore." 

"Perhaps not, but I can prevent you from taking a minor child with you. In fact, as a minor yourself you have no claim to Mundungus or emancipation from your father at all, particularly if you cannot prove your father unfit which, without proof of abuse, will be quite nearly impossible. I'm afraid, Miss Fletcher, that if you leave Hogwarts, you will leave it alone." 

Marissa stared at Dumbledore for the first time in real anger. Dumbledore calmly met her eyes. "I won't leave Gus to that man," she said through clenched teeth. 

"It is very lucky, Miss Fletcher, that you are still a student of my school, for I am afraid that you have much to learn," Dumbledore said with infuriating calm. "As I told you in Professor McGonagall's office, there is someone with whom you have not truly spoken in many years. He is here today and wishes to speak with you about Mundungus's welfare when he returns to his house." 

"I don't want to hear what he has to say," Marissa said hostilely. 

"I suggest that you do anyway, Miss Fletcher," Dumbledore countered. "Sometimes the things we do not want turn out to be for the best. And as I hope I have made clear, you have no choice in the matter of where Mundungus is to live. As such, I thought you would appreciate any and all insights into what is in store for your brother." 

Marissa glared at him for a moment, then snatched her wand out of the air and jabbed it forcefully into her pocket. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the carpet. "I appreciate your open-mindedness, Olivia," Dumbledore said mildly. 

Marissa jerked her head upward, staring at Dumbledore in shock. "Do you remember when you were called by that name?" another man's voice came from behind her. Marissa refused to look. Dumbledore acknowledged him and waved his wand to create a second chair for him next to his daughter. "It's probably a vague memory to you now." 

"Why would it be? Mum's not a vague memory," Marissa said tightly, staring pointedly at the corner of Dumbledore's desk. 

"Not for me either," Jerome Fletcher said softly. "You're not still mad about the name, are you?" 

"Why would I be?" Marissa asked sarcastically. "First I lost my mother. Then my father. Then, just to add insult to injury, I lose my name too. I'm left to raise my new baby brother myself while struggling with confusion for who I am now. But why would I be angry about that?" 

"We named you for her. Don't you understand? I couldn't bear to call you by her name." 

"You couldn't bear to call me by my name? You called her General!" Marissa said, at last turning to look at him in her anger. "Or did you think that I forgot that? And your mother is dead; why can you bear for me to go by her name?" 

"Ol - Oliv..." Mr Fletcher tried to call her. 

"Oh, don't strain yourself," she snapped at him. "Marissa's who I am now. You know, it even fits. I was a different person before she died, and so were you." 

"You're right, Marissa," Mr Fletcher said quietly. "Everything would have been different if she had lived. You're right to say you lost your father too. She was the most wonderful mother. It was like I told myself, 'No matter what I do, you got the shaft when it came to parents.' It's how I justified pulling away from you and Mundungus. But even if I were father of the year, it wouldn't have been what you should have had, what you would have had if she hadn't died." 

"That's no excuse," Marissa muttered. "There's no excuse for what you did." 

"Marissa - " 

"NO!" she shouted, turning back to stare at him as she cried, "I could ascribe changing my name and even Gus's birthday to eccentric grieving, but to turn away from us! You _abandoned_ us! You left me, at six years old, with nobody! Nobody but a baby that nobody seemed to want to be around - just like me! Everyone saying that Mum died to have Gus, everyone going on and on about it until I wanted to scream that it wasn't his fault! I wanted to scream it at her friends, and the priests at her funeral, but mostly I wanted to scream it at you! Now, years later, you take every chance you get to tear us down, to try and make us feel as badly as you do. Well guess what? I already do! Miracle of miracles, Gus and I actually made it; we had half a shot at being halfway normal, then you come along and ruin it again because you don't seem to think we're in proper mourning. Well I have news for you, I miss her too!" Marissa was crying as she spoke now. "You're not the only one who loved her. And that's no excuse. I was six and I handled it better than you, but that doesn't mean I didn't suffer without Mum there. I did your work for you. I even got to the point where I didn't mind it. I didn't want you to thank me. But to turn on me? To tear down Gus and me to make you feel more righteous? There is no excuse for that." 

The truly shocking thing about her outburst was not seeing the ever-giddy Marissa Fletcher angry and crying from sadness in turn, it was that Jerome Fletcher was silenced. It was a very long moment of silence. Fawkes, apparently disliking the tension, shuffled nervously back and forth on his perch. "I deserved this, Marissa," Mr Fletcher said quietly after a long moment. "I deserved every minute of what you've put me through this past month. In fact, I'm glad you did it. It's made me realize how much I do care about Mundungus, and more than that, it's made me realize that I haven't shown it in years, if I ever did. You were more alone than an orphan. You lost me, but you didn't get anyone else to come take care of you in my place. You don't know how proud I am of you for being there for Mundungus the way you have all his life. I can't make up for that, not with you, not you whom I left alone without even your name. I can't make that up to you, but please, please I'd like a chance to make it up to Mundungus." Marissa looked up at him for the first time with a different emotion than anger. "Please, Marissa, I want to make it up to my son. I know that it won't be easy. I won't become a great dad overnight. But this Easter, and then later this summer, you could help me. Until then I could try. Please, Marissa, give me another chance to be a father to my son. I know I don't deserve it, but I couldn't bear to lose him as I've lost you." 

Marissa looked at him for a moment, and then turned to Dumbledore, "I assume you already know where he is." 

"Yes, but I'd prefer it if you got him," Dumbledore replied. 

There was a slight pause. "Okay." 

Jerome Fletcher stared at his daughter. "Really, Riss? You'll give me your blessing to try to raise him?" 

Marissa stood before she looked over at him. "Okay." 

Marissa turned to walk out of the office. She twirled on her heel and address Professor Dumbledore, "You'll let me out this time, Professor?" 

Dumbledore smiled at her. "Okay." 

"Okay," Marissa replied. 

She opened the door. "I do love the two of you, Marissa," Jerome Fletcher told her back. 

"Okay," she said without turning. 

* * *

Marissa folded Mundungus into her arms, holding him close almost fearfully. "I love you, Gus," she whispered in his ear before releasing him. She looked up into the eyes of her father standing just off to the side. "Take good care of him." It was both a warning and a plea, and also, somehow, it was a declaration of her faith in him. 

Father and daughter exchanged no further words, and Mundungus was too worried to be his normal talkative self. He was rather thrown by the abrupt change in both his father and Marissa (though admittedly his father could have been changing over the course of a month). He barely heard Marissa's nervous voice as she prattled on about nothing; she seemed to be saying, "I'll ship you some of our enchiladas by owl post," or something just as unimportant to him. What did he care? Did she think he wouldn't hurl the enchiladas that had ended his stay at Hogwarts out the window? Or better yet, at his father, whom he did not believe for a second had changed for good? 

Unwilling to look at either of them, Mundungus glanced up at the aged man standing just off to the side. His blue eyes were fixed on Mundungus, looking as if he understood what he was thinking. Marissa seemed to have great respect for him, her eyes darting to his face every so often as if for approval. Was that man the reason that Mundungus was going home with his father instead of staying with Marissa like she promised? Or was he just the reason that Marissa was suddenly okay with it? Or was it all a front? Was she planning some grand escape to come and rescue him? Surely that was the only reasonable explanation that she was allowing him to go so quietly. How soon would he be back at Hogwarts? How soon would everything be right again? 

But would his father look for him again? That was the real question. He had already convinced himself that Marissa would try to rescue him. But would she be able to? Would she risk it if she knew, or even just thought, that their father would look for him again? Why had his father done that in the first place anyway? 

And why did that old man have to keep looking at him like that? 

Then his father's hand was on his shoulder, and he was being led away to a horseless carriage that would take him to the train station he had seen only a month earlier, and ultimately to the home he had half-hoped he would never have to see again. He turned to watch as Marissa's worried face grew slowly smaller and smaller, then too blurred to read. 

Marissa watched until the carriage was through the gates, squinting for it until it was around the bend. She watched the last spot that it had been visible for a long moment. "Will he ever forgive me?" she wondered aloud. "For giving him to a man that I fear?" 

"I would not ask this of you if I thought your fear justified," Professor Dumbledore replied quietly. "In your brother's case, I truly believe your father means to change. I have always believed in second chances and so, Miss Fletcher, have you." 

Marissa, at long last, pried her eyes away from the last spot the carriage had been visible and turned to the Headmaster. "He doesn't deserve a second chance," she said softly. "He hasn't earned this kind of trust. But he gets it because, if he isn't lying, then he's what's best for Mundungus." 

Dumbledore merely looked at her for a moment, and then he said quietly, "I did not think that you would give me cause to be proud of you today, Miss Fletcher." 

* * *

Professor McGonagall was not proud. That was likely calling a dragon a salamander. Professor McGonagall was livid. 

She was staring at Marissa with fire in her eyes. Marissa usually found it difficult to think of her short, no-nonsense Transfiguration teacher as a formidable witch (not least because the word still carried some Muggle connotation for her). However, she looked it now. It was definitely easy to see the power that had led her to become one of the youngest Animagi in history when she was looking at her with her lips pressed so tightly together they were practically invisible and giving off the aura of being on the verge of making something explode, and not entirely by accident either. 

"Miss Fletcher," she said quietly, as if she were afraid if she spoke any louder she would be screaming. "I never would have expected it from you." Marissa closed her eyes but managed to stay standing. "It was my intention to strip you of your prefect's badge," she said harshly, risking a little more volume. "However, Professor Dumbledore insists that you remain Gryffindor's prefect. I would like to add that you had a good chance of being Head Girl here, Miss Fletcher, if your potions work improved. I would never have believed it of you. You will be handling all prefect-assigned detentions for the remainder of the year," McGonagall continued, "and one hundred points from Gryffindor." 

Marissa's eyes flew open and a gasp escaped her lips. "However," Professor McGonagall said tightly, "this would automatically remove you from prefect status and Professor Dumbledore has insisted that that not happen. Therefore, I decided to lower the deduction to 75, allowing that, if you and Mr Lupin incurred no further infractions, your joint prefect status could be maintained. On reflection, however, I deemed that this was unfair to Mr Lupin who, though well meaning, does at times lose points. Therefore, I lowered the amount to fifty and placed the restriction against losing any further points solely on you. Even Professor Dumbledore does not forbid my placing you on probation and making your badge conditional. At the prefects' meeting on Monday night I will announce that whenever they assign a detention, they are to come to you about the date and time. You may go." 

Marissa had never bolted out of McGonagall's office so fast. She leaned up against the wall once out of it and let out a long breath. She understood and appreciated McGonagall's kindness in telling her about her original intentions before announcing the final figure. Fifty didn't look quite so bad after a hundred. However, Gryffindor would never know that it was almost a hundred. And fifty points in one shot (almost the worth of a Quidditch match) was enough to drop them out of their comfortable first place. In fact, they were now third, she realized. She had the feeling that this was going to be a very long year. 

Then all thoughts of points were gone when she realized just how long of a year it would be. It was only a few days into February now, she wouldn't see Mundungus for five months. She wouldn't be able to make sure that he was okay every day for five long months. She had given him to a man she still wasn't fully sure that she believed in for five months where she wouldn't be able to touch him. Dumbledore would make sure of that, even if he still wanted her to be a prefect. 

Marissa put her hand over her eyes, letting her shoulders slump. She was tired, something that she hadn't permitted herself to acknowledge for years. She didn't mean physically tired, although she had gotten almost no sleep last night and had had a very trying day. It was years of weariness that she suddenly felt unable to repress any longer. Marissa never admitted it to herself, but she was tired. Tired of playing her mother's role. 

She felt tears stinging at her eyes and couldn't blink them back because she had been fighting them for too long. She had been fighting the chant that was ringing in her head for nine years. She had fought it because she believed that to wish something was to hope that it came true, and she knew that her wish was hopeless. She had known it even at the tender age of six, but she could not fight the longing any more. Sobs rose in her throat, not for the loss of her brother, but for the loss of her mother all those years ago. She knew it was childish, but the only voice she could find was the wail of a six-year-old who had lost her mother. 

She kept thinking the mostly irrational idea that her mother would have known better what to do and the not so irrational idea that if her mother had been there, everything would have been better. If her mother had been there, everything wouldn't be such a frightful mess. _Mum, if you were still here everything would be all right._ Maybe she was like her mother to everyone else, but Marissa did not feel like she had her with her. She just felt alone. 

Marissa did not even hear the footsteps in the echoing corridor. Not until she felt small, delicate hands grip her shoulder did she glance up. It was the only time that she had ever been disappointed to see Lily's face, but she had for half a moment truly believed that it was her mother, come to give her comfort. Lily immediately pulled her best friend to her when she saw the tears pouring down her face and began to rock her back and forth slowly in an attempt to comfort her. "I wasn't ready to be a mother, Lily," Marissa choked out, trying not to sob, but that only seemed to make it worse. "I shouldn't have - shouldn't have had to be a mother at six! I just want - I just want to go back in time and do my life over again! I just want her to not have died. I just want my mother to not have died." 

"I'm sorry, Riss. I'm so sorry," Lily whispered, feeling her slowly begin to quiet. 

"Well, if it's any consolation, you can have my mother," Sirius said with a feeble smirk as he led the Marauders en masse toward the two girls. Lily shot him a warning look, but Marissa began to laugh through her tears and pulled away enough to swipe at her tears before the boys saw them, for all the world as if that was what mattered. The boys ranged around the two girls, all looking - for once in their lives - humble and shame-faced at all that they had put her through. 

Just when it appeared that they were about to say what they had all been wanting to, Marissa cut them off. "Please, please let's just do the whole apologies thing later, I'm not up for it right now. I know I owe you one, but I can't right now." 

Remus started to protest that she didn't have near as much to apologize for as they did when Lily elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up. After that, Marissa gave what was partly a laugh but mostly a sob, and one gigantic group hug resulted. What McGonagall thought when, a few seconds later, she came out of her office to see all six fifth year Gryffindors holding the crying Marissa none of them could say, for they never saw her pass. 

It was a little easier to guess what the other witness to the scene thought of the Gryffindor Group Hug. He waited until Lily had hurried a red-eyed but calmer Marissa towards the prefect's bathroom to get cleaned up, then announced his presence to the still oblivious boys. "So, what'd you say to get the Mudblood crying?" Severus Snape drawled, leaning up against the wall with a heavy book with a frightful-looking stain on it still half-open in his hands. 

The boys whirled so fast they nearly spun too far. "Which one are you after now, Potter? You can keep dabbling in the Mudbloods all you like, but just let me tell you now, you'll never find one with blood as filthy as yours," Severus spat. 

All four Marauders drew their wands, but Snape - who had been ready after all - was quicker on the draw. As none of them where particularly keen on getting into a duel right in front of McGonagall's office (and the Gryffindors believed her to still be inside it), they reached an uncomfortable stalemate as they stared at each other with their wands out. This allowed Snape to continue taunting them as before. "Or won't even a Mudblood have you, Potter?" 

"Don't call her that!" James shouted. It burst out of his tightly clenched lips with too much force to keep his voice down. 

"Which one? The redheaded tart? Or the self-righteous prefect?" Snape sneered. 

With that, a pureblood and a halfblood promptly forgot that they were wizards, forgot that they were standing directly outside of Professor McGonagall's office, forgot everything but the raw need to punch the living daylights out of each other. 

* * *

"All right, I'm officially jealous of you for being a prefect," Lily announced when she saw the prefect's bathroom. Marissa tried to smile. but she couldn't hold it in place for very long. Luckily, Lily was still gaping around at the marble sinks and the Olympic swimming pool bath tub. "And you only have to share this with twelve other people?" 

"Eleven if Alice, Valerie or Stacy makes Head Girl next year," Marissa replied with a smirk. "Oh buck up, Lils, you'll be in here before long." 

"You said I'd make prefect too, you know," Lily replied, taking her eyes off the marble sculpture of the cherub with difficulty. "And I think you'll beat me out for Head Girl as well." 

"Lily, even if our grades were the same, which they are not, the last time I checked Arithmancy was weighted higher than Divination," Marissa replied, applying fresh make-up where her tears had washed it off. "Especially the way that Galda teaches it. We spend more time in that class just sitting and drinking tea 'waiting for inspiration to come to us.'" Marissa said the last part in a misty voice with a heavy Gaelic accent. She chuckled to herself as she applied the last dab and spun about in her chair for Lily to approve her work. 

Lily immediately rushed over and began to expertly correct Marissa's attempt at beauty. After a moment, considerably less time than it usually took, she took out her wand and murmured a useful little spell that Marissa had found that would hold your make-up in place for twelve hours without smudging. Marissa was always a little nervous about asking Lily to do the spell but didn't want to make her feel bad about her mental block about Charms. It was a new phobia, truthfully. She used to get along all right in the class, but then she and James used to help each other out in Charms and Transfiguration respectively. Since the schism, both had been having an increasingly hard time in their worst subject. They had gotten too used to leaning on each other. 

"So, do you think the boys have really forgiven me?" Marissa asked when Lily proclaimed her as good as new. 

"Riss, how many times must I ask you not to ask me to fathom the minds of boys?" Lily laughed. "But if you really want to make it up to them..." she had a mischievous smile on her face, "they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." 

* * *

"James! Sirius! NO!" Marissa was shouting an hour later. "I'm saving that tray to send to the Boneses! You've already eaten the ones I was going to send to Mundungus! By the beard of Merlin, I made so many! Are your appetites insatiable?" Although she was yelling and quite obviously cross, it was clear to all that she was not really angry, merely frustrated with the pair of them. "Remus! Peter! Can't you restrain them? They're eating like animals!" 

For some reason, all the boys jumped. "Oh, don't tell me you've never heard it before. Those house-elves in the kitchen must mutter it under their breath about you lot all the time. Or do you bother to listen to them?" 

"We're not eavesdroppers in the business of finding out secrets, Marissa," James said mildly, but everyone knew that he was referring to her knowledge of their closest guarded ones. In truth, that was the only reason that her quite harmless comment had alarmed them; they had been searching so hard for any sign of whether she knew their main secret. 

"With that Cloak, James Potter?" Lily said dryly, almost hostilely. "You really are thick if you think we're going to swallow that." 

"I'm not asking you to swallow anything. Just believe me," James snapped irritably. 

Remus chortled, realizing that his friend had been caught in the snares of Muggle terminology. Marissa, however, quickly moved to restrain Lily before she could think of doing anything out of anger. "Lils, do you think you could help me get this package off? James, Sirius, will you call your owls for me?" As the four set about their tasks, comfortable conversation once again resumed in the room that, for the past hour, had been so full of good cheer. 

After all the packages had been sent off, the boys all began to file out the door. "Just where do you think you're going before the washing up is done?" Lily demanded, making them stop at the door. 

"Lily," Sirius said carefully, glancing at his fellow Marauders for help, "just trust me, we really need to be going." 

Lily's eyes flashed dangerously. "Why?" she said tightly. 

"Oh bother, Lils," Marissa cut in, "do you really want the _Marauders_ to help clean up the fragile dishes? Just go, boys." 

The four immediately fled without another word. Lily turned on her the moment they were gone. "Riss, just because you want them to like you again does not mean that you need to let them walk all over you. There is no reason on or under this earth that they can't help us pack up everything to take back to Gryffindor Tower." 

"Just let it be, Lils," Marissa replied. "You can leave if you want." 

Lily sniffed. "I have some manners," she replied. 

"Just not very good ones," Marissa smirked at her. 

"Riss!" Lily shouted in complaint, throwing a nearby napkin at her. Marissa laughed and grabbed the two plates nearest her. However, she stayed in the kitchen washing them after that, and Lily finished clearing the table. When Lily brought the last dish in, the platter for the Spanish rice side dish they had made that morning, she saw Marissa scrubbing one of the plates so furiously that she was alarmed. She never thought that the way someone was washing a dish would frighten her, but just then it did. "You know," she said gently, setting down the platter carefully, "it occurs to me that we don't really have to do the dishes." 

"And leave them for the house-elves?" Marissa all but snapped. 

Lily nearly jumped, it was so odd to hear such blunt annoyance in Marissa's voice. "No, I was just thinking that this room would probably do them for us if we walked back and forth ... how many times was it?" Marissa did not answer or stop swatting at the plate she was holding with a dishtowel. Lily reached to take the plate from her. "Marissa, you don't have to - " 

"Just leave me be, Lily!" she shouted, jerking it back and slopping a great deal of water on the floor in the process. Lily stood stock still in shock. Marissa, ignoring the soapy puddle on the floor, went back to scrubbing the dish. A moment later, she said softly, "I'm sorry, Lily. I just have to do this." 

"I'll help you," Lily said softly, looking down at her feet. Marissa handed her a dish with utmost delicacy then all but tore another out of the sink and began to tear at it with the rag she was holding. 

After a moment, Marissa spoke again. "This is what I used to do," she explained softly. "After my mother died." Marissa put the dish down and reached for another, this time with much less force. Lily moved over to the side and began to dry them. "I was only six, you know. Father was ignoring me and the baby. I took care of him a lot, playing with him, but that was only good for some of the time. I was lonely, and I started hanging around the kitchens with Mavi. Father hired her when Mother got pregnant, but I don't think Mum ever let her do much while she was - around. She probably didn't let a six-year-old do much, but this was what I did when I was tired or angry or just sad. So now I guess whenever I feel like that, I just want to cook or clean something." 

"I wonder if that's why Petunia's gotten so fussy about how orderly her room is," Lily said quietly. "Honestly, she must have gone over that thing with plastic gloves. It was spotless." 

"I think that's just a personality thing," Marissa said with a small smile that quickly faded. They finished the rest of the dishes in silence. 

* * *

The next day Gryffindor was down a hundred points in the great House Race. Slytherin was down fifty, tying them for last place. The entire fifth year was in total disgrace with the rest of the house. Marissa, who was usually popular, was shunned. James had it easier. Everyone expected the Marauders to lose a ton of points. And at least he had been in an honorable fight with a Slytherin. The rest of the Marauders and Lily were given the cold shoulder for not stopping Marissa and James from getting into a fist fight and - well whatever it was that Marissa had done to lose Gryffindor all those points. 

It also hit hard that it was their own Head of House and Professor Flitwick, for crying out loud, who had subtracted the points. Even the boys were subdued under the glares from their housemates. McGonagall didn't seem to pity them in the least, but Flitwick appeared remorseful when he learned that Gryffindor had already lost fifty points that same day. After Charms, he pulled Marissa aside and spoke to her about it. "I was wondering," he said in his high voice, looking at her with a thoughtful expression on his face, "If you'd be interested in a special project to make up some of the house points that Gryffindor has recently lost." 

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather James?" Marissa said, looking at him in surprise. He looked at her in silence for a moment until she added, "I'll do it, of course, but he's much better than me at Charms." 

"Though it may be strictly true that his marks are slightly higher than yours in this class," Flitwick replied, "the spell I'm setting you to research is rather something that Mr Potter will never understand. You won't appreciate it fully for many years yet, let us hope that of all the girls in his school, but you will be able to get a much firmer grasp on this particular subject than either Mr Potter or myself." 

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think that could possibly be true," Marissa replied immediately. 

Flitwick chuckled. "I assure you, Miss Fletcher, that it is quite possible, as are most things. But in this case, it is not so unlikely when you learn what spell you will be researching. It is a very obscure spell. In fact, no one has used it for many many years. It's called the Midwife's Spell. You should find the research you need for your report in the library. I've been meaning to assign you this project for some time, and with Gryffindor's current fall from grace, I thought the time right." He cleared his throat. "For the maximum points you should turn it in by the end of the week." Marissa nodded, and Flitwick nodded in return. "Now, I believe you should hurry along to your next class. I daresay Gryffindor can't afford to lose any more points." 

Sirius and Remus had waited for her outside class. Or that was how it looked at first. On second glance, they appeared to be conspiring. Why they would conspire without Peter and, she hated to think it, but especially James, she couldn't fathom. Sirius seemed to be trying to reassure Remus about something. He was hanging his head, looking more despondent than usual. Both boys' eyes were red, as if they hadn't slept all night. When they both looked up and saw her, they immediately stopped talking. As they walked down the passage, Marissa noticed that Sirius walked with a limp. 

* * *

The Marauders had been suspiciously absent in the Common Room last night. Tonight Sirius was the only one there, even more conspicuous than their complete absence for two reasons. The first was that hardly anyone but whomever they were dating, and sometimes not even the current "luckiest girl in Hogwarts", ever saw James and Sirius apart. The second was that Sirius was much more subdued without his best friends in tow. He even went up to bed early. 

Marissa stayed curled up in her favorite armchair until long after everyone else had gone up for the night, even the frantic fourth years who had a Potions exam the following morning. She wasn't reading or studying. She was just sitting and thinking. Lily had been worried, but she was too annoyed with the boys' absence to stay still and silent enough to keep her friend company. Marissa was sitting sideways in the armchair with her legs draped over one of the arms of the chair, hugging her knees so that she was curled up towards them. 

"Now that's an interesting position," Sirius said loudly as he swaggered back down the stairs. Marissa, for once, didn't smile when she saw him. "I'm always telling James you'd make a good lay. Always say he should take his eyes off the white stag he's chasing and look at what's chasing after him." 

"Not now, Sirius," she murmured, her face still half-hidden behind her knees. "I'm not in the mood for all your sordid innuendos." 

"But that's why you were so desperate to become my friend again," Sirius replied cheekily. "For my innuendo and foreplay ... that and my secrets." 

"So we are friends again?" Marissa affirmed, choosing to ignore the rest. 

"After that fabulous meal you made us?" Sirius replied. "Are you kidding me? I'd marry you after that one if you'd have me." 

Marissa smiled briefly, shaking her head. "Be serious!" 

"Why, Marissa, that's precisely who I'm being!" Sirius laughed. "Jokes and sordid innuendo are totally Sirius to me." 

"Oh Merlin!" Marissa cried, looking up to the ceiling as if for deliverance. "You'd think after five years that joke would get old!" 

"You'd think after five years you'd learn not to set me up for it," Sirius countered with a laugh. Once he had gotten a small one out of Marissa, silence descended on them. Marissa returned to staring at her knees. Even Sirius was still and almost melancholy for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was truly serious and no longer the kind of voice he used to attract the entire Common Room's attention. It was more personal and earnest as he said quitely, "You could have just told us, you know." 

"You think so?" Marissa replied softly. 

"We're friends, Riss. We would have helped you," Sirius replied. "You could have told us." 

"You could have told me about the Cloak," Marissa replied. Sirius started and stared at her. "We're friends, Sirius, but I'm not a Marauder." There was silence for a moment. "That's been made abundantly clear to me in the past years. And the Marauders guard their secrets." 

"Riss," Sirius said carefully. "Not all the secrets are mine to give." 

"You might have told me about the Cloak as courtesy to another prankster," Marissa countered. "And the mirrors? You didn't have to keep those a secret." 

"Obviously we didn't," Sirius replied with a slight smirk. 

"So you might as well have told me," Marissa almost laughed. "You didn't have to worry about me telling anyone. Why wouldn't you just tell me?" Sirius just looked at her for a long moment. "Like why aren't you with the rest of your little friends tonight? And what happened to your leg?" 

"Not all secrets are mine to tell, Riss," Sirius said again. 

"Yeah, I know. It's Remus's too. But you notice he's the Marauder I trust with my secrets," Marissa said, rising to her feet. "Because he trusts me with his." Sirius perked up at this, but Marissa didn't notice. "He didn't blanch when I asked for the Cloak. He tried to get you to give me the mirrors without a fuss. He at least trusts me with your precious boys' club secret toys." 

She turned and walked to the stairs. "We're making a map," Sirius said suddenly. Marissa turned. "Of Hogwarts Castle and Grounds. Complete with all the secret passages that we've discovered." Marissa walked back to her armchair and sat down, this time without draping her legs over the arm of the chair. "And another little extra actually inspired by you." 

"By me?" Marissa cried in surprise. 

"By your success in eluding us," Sirius clarified. "James found a charm to put on the ink to track the whereabouts of people in the castle. Enemies, partners in crime ... partners in - " 

"Sirius Black!" 

" - other crimes. . ." 

"You are too much, Sirius! I don't know what that fan club sees in you," she laughed. 

"So tell me truthfully, Riss, did you already know about the map?" Sirius asked shrewdly. 

"I didn't know about the tracking ink," Marissa offered him with a smirk. Sirius laughed and stood to leave. 

"What is the world coming to?" he yelled to no one in particular as he stomped up the staircases. Marissa had her first long laugh since Gus left, then turned and walked up the stairs of the Girls' Dormitory. 

* * *

"So, Lils," Marissa said in a mostly-kidding voice, "are you absolutely _sure_ that you don't want to help me with my project?" 

Lily grimaced at her. They were both sitting at a table in the back of the library surrounded by books. Or at least Lily was. Marissa had just leafed through a colossal one entitled _Registry of Research on Obscure Spellwork_ , which listed all the references made to many (and by that it meant thousands) of obscure spells not likely to be in most mainstream studies. After an hour of searching (it had taken forty-five minutes to figure out the system of organization and fifteen minutes to thumb through all the pages that began with "Midw" words), Marissa was finally sitting with a (small) list of books and articles that mentioned the Midwife's Spell. Now all she had to do was track some of them down. 

"Riss, it's Charms," Lily said by way of refusal. 

Marissa laughed. "Why do you hate Charms so much? Didn't Mr Ollivander say your wand was supposed to be especially good at Charms?" 

"How in the world do you know that?" Lily asked in surprise, looking up from her essay on the Unforgivable Curses for the first time since they had sat down. 

Marissa rolled her eyes at her friend's dismay. "You don't remember? Summer after third year when Sirius begged all of us to 'bump into him' and his family at Diagon Alley because he couldn't take one more minute with just Regulus and his parents, and we all ended up tromping around Madame Malkin's and Flourish and Blotts with the little twerp until we finally came to Ollivander's. Took Regulus about two hours to find the right wand, plenty of time for Mr. Ollivander to pedigree each of our wands in turn." Lily smiled at the memory of the seven of them crowded into Ollivander's, with the boys fighting with them over being a gentleman and letting them sit in the single chair. "Come to think of it, James's was supposed to be good at Transfiguration, and he hates the subject." Lily looked over at her. "Is there something to that?" 

"I don't know; what's your wand supposed to be good at, Potions?" Lily asked with a very Marauder-like smirk on her face. 

Marissa threw her quill at her as she rose to her feet, but she was smiling. Lily was the only fifth year Gryffindor who was any good at Potions. Marissa scraped by mostly because she had Lily for a partner and in-room tutor but knew for certain that she would not be making it her life's work. Remus and Peter were both hopeless, and so of course always ended up paired together. James and Sirius might have been all right if they bothered to pay any attention to it, which of course they didn't, which of course is quite disastrous in Potions Class as they had learned - or rather failed to learn - on many occasions. It was all right though. Lily was so spectacular that she earned all the points that Gryffindor needed from Potions, even enough to make up for the points lost in James and Sirius's Great Cauldron Meltdowns. Professor Delacour, a petite French brunette who was nevertheless one of their more formidable (if forgiving) teachers, often joked that she would be publishing a study with this title based on their mistakes in her class. 

Luckily there had been no disaster today, so Lily was in a good enough mood that she just might help Marissa with some of the research once she finished her essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. In the meantime, Marissa weaved in and out of the bookshelves, finding four of the books on her list and returning to the table thinking it quite a success, even if all of them merely had small sections about the Midwife's Spell in particular. One of the books must surely have been enchanted, Marissa thought, for it reportedly listed the exact date and time that certain of the rarest spells had been performed going back centuries. Marissa was tempted to explore how this book functioned, but figured she should probably learn just what the Midwife's Spell did before she asked who did it. 

She found it in the book entitled _The Perils of Magical Childbirth_ , being careful not to glance at any of the other pages once she had seen the grotesque diagram on the first page that resulted from a spell gone wrong. On page 796 it explained the charm. 

_**The Midwife's Spell** _

_**Encantation:** "Dio e col mio bambino per posso non" _

_**Derivation:** Italian _

_**Translation:** "God be with my baby for I cannot" _

_**Discovery:** 1737 in Pisa, Italy _

_**Purpose:** Used in extreme cases. Unlike what is often referred to as its sister spell, the Midwife Charm, the Midwife's Spell was never widely used. It is not merely a highly dangerous spell - it is fatal. It is used in extreme cases only, where neither the mother nor her child have a chance to live. In such cases, the Magical Midwife, or even the mother herself if one is not available, can cast the charm on the mother. It has never failed to allow a healthy child to be born quickly, however the cost is terrible. To save the baby's life, the spell uses a powerful old magic, the binding of a woman to her child. To save her child, the mother sacrifices her life. On two occasions (that are documented though it is believed there are no additional ones) a mother, seeing that her child will not survive the delivery, has cast the spell on herself although she herself should survive the labor. On both occasions, known birth defects expected to be in the children born were not present. In the two hundred years since its discovery, it is believed that the Spell has been cast only seven times, there being a multitude of other options for most women and children._

Marissa gaped at the page. When she started reading it, she had been jotting down the notes on its origin and history. However, when she actually started reading its synopsis, she forgot all about her notes. She had an eerie feeling that the words on the page would never fully leave her. No wonder it had only been used seven times in the course of history! To kill yourself! Thank Merlin it wasn't a well known spell! _Still,_ Marissa found herself thinking, _if they were going to both die. . ._ She shook herself. What about the women who had chosen it without that? Who had sacrificed themselves for their children? Who were they? 

Marissa had been meaning to save the list of when the spell had been performed for last, but now she grabbed at it, flipping quickly through. No wonder this book could keep track of when the charms had been performed! Seven in two hundred years! However, when she opened the book to the proper page, she saw eight listings. She checked the publish date of _The Perils of Magical Childbirth_ and discovered that the last one had been performed after 1940 and was therefore not included in the author's examples. 

Suddenly Marissa's eyes snapped back to the last date on the page. She could not say that there were any particular thoughts in her head for a very long time as she stared at it. 

"Riss? Riss?" Lily's voice sounded loud and echoing in the utter silence of her mind. "Riss, are you all right? Your eyes are bugging out. They're as big as saucers." Marissa couldn't look away. "Now there as big as platters. What's up?" 

Marissa looked up at her for a long moment, then back down at the page. Lily walked over to the other side of the table and leaned over her shoulder to read it. Marissa laid her hand on the last date and held it there as if afraid to move her hand. "December 24, 1967; Six o'clock and thirty-seven minutes in the evening; London, England," Lily read in confusion. "Riss, what - " 

But hearing the words aloud had stirred Marissa into motion. She snapped the book shut and stood so quickly Lily nearly toppled over behind her. Marissa, knocking her chair over into the already off-balance Lily, strode quickly back towards the main line of bookshelves. This time she was moving purposefully and quickly, not leisurely meandering down the aisles. After recovering her balance, Lily immediately followed Marissa, eyeing her friend with concern. She stopped so suddenly Lily almost ran into her. Marissa was getting into a bad habit of very nearly tripping her. They had stopped in the very last place that Lily had expected her to go for research. They were deep in the Memorabilia Section, the part of the library devoted to old Hogwarts yearbooks. It was also where all old Prefect Meeting minutes were doomed to end up eventually. It was a very seldomly visited shelf. 

Marissa, however, was staring at the line of yearbooks with extreme interest. Lily wasn't sure if that was the right word, but that didn't concern her at the moment as much as the look on her friend's face. It looked stricken. "Where would she be?" Lily heard her mumble as she stared at the long row of yearbooks. In a sudden burst of movement, she grabbed about a decade worth of books and pulled them all to the ground at once. Immediately, she sat down on the ground and began to thumb through them. 

"Where would who be, Riss?" Lily asked worriedly. 

"My mother," Marissa said thickly. 

Lily had no earthly idea what to say to that, so she echoed her, "Your mother?" When Marissa did nothing but nod and flip through the yearbooks at a much less frantic pace, Lily sank down onto the floor next to her. "What do you mean your mother, Riss? Your mother was a Muggle." 

"No," Marissa said. "No, because if she were a Muggle she couldn't have cast that spell." 

Lily was silent for a moment. Then, " _What?_ " 

"The Midwife's Spell," Marissa said utterly calmly as if she were merely thumbing through a mildly interesting photo album and hadn't been acting like she was about to have a nervous breakdown a moment before. "You saw the date, didn't you? Mundungus's birthday. She died, he lived. She collapsed as we were about to leave for Christmas Mass. It starts at seven. I think." 

"You think?" Lily repeated the only part that had made any sense to her. "Marissa," Lily pleaded, "talk sense." Marissa didn't respond. "We celebrated your brother's birthday in January, the sixth, right? The date on that spell was Christmas Eve - " 

"Gus was born on Christmas Eve," Marissa said evenly, in a flat tone. 

"Then why - " 

"Because Father didn't like to remember the day his wife died in childbirth. Thought it bordered on sacrilege to throw a party on that day. That's why I'm so into Christmas, he didn't celebrate it either," Marissa said, still in that flat voice. "But I remember. December 24, 1967 around six-thirty, my mother collapsed and, contrary to what anyone expected, gave birth to a healthy baby boy then died just when we thought she was out of danger. And she knew she was dying somehow. I still remember. . .remember her saying, 'You'll make it Gus.' But she knew she was dying." 

"Riss - " 

"Please, Lily, just humor me." Lily looked at her for a long moment as if she thought her friend was crazy, but then picked up another of the yearbooks. Marissa looked up briefly at her in thanks. Lily felt as she had when she had tried to get Marissa to stop compulsively washing the dishes and decided to help her instead. 

"Just what am I looking for?" Lily asked her, opening the book to a random page. 

"Olivia Jane ... Nelson I suppose," Marissa replied. "I think that's still her name at least." 

Lily felt vaguely as if she should acknowledge that she understood this somehow, but wasn't sure that she did. It was just as well Marissa's cry of recognition interrupted her. Lily immediately leaned over the page. Marissa was pointing to the photograph of a young girl about sixteen or seventeen. The caption under the picture read, "Olivia Nelson." The girl in the photograph had Marissa's dancing blue eyes and was smiling up at them in a most mischievous way. Her long, rich brown hair cascaded down past her shoulders and beyond the borders of the picture. What was almost more startling was the realization that the woman had the same bone structure, nose, eyebrows, and chin as Marissa. These seemed almost more personal somehow, even though Lily had always considered her "laughing eyes" and "contagious smirk" Marissa's trademarks. 

"So she was a sixth year Ravenclaw that year," Marissa read from the top of the page. 

"Seventh years have a whole page of stats; do you want to look hers up?" Lily asked almost worriedly. "They're divided by Houses, but now that we know hers..." 

"Yeah," Marissa agreed, but she thumbed through to the group photographs in the same book that she was holding, obviously looking for her mother in them. Lily almost understood for the first time since they had sat down with the yearbooks: it was more real to see her in a group. A single photo could be planted, but to find a group shot that she was in. . . 

Never mind who would want to plant the photograph. Lily sighed and shifted through the books until she found the next year. 

They spent hours in that library, hardly even noticing that time was passing, particularly Marissa. They spread out all seven yearbooks before them and flipped through them, hardly speaking, getting to know Marissa's mother. Lily was looking for the answer to why she had kept it from her family. Marissa was looking for a different answer, one she thought must be here if only because she needed the answer so badly: why had she died? 

* * *

When they finally closed the books, they found the library deserted. Even Madam Pince had left, either not noticing that they were there or realizing something of what it meant to them to stay. Lily suspected the former though it seemed hard to believe of the (to put it mildly) freakishly-obsessed librarian. Marissa kept the seventh year book clutched to her chest as they stole quietly out of the library, thankful that it didn't lock from the inside. It was even later than they had thought. They were long past due in the Gryffindor Common Room. Luckily, they met no one (at least visible, Lily later grumbled suspiciously when they learned that the Marauders had been out for the third night in a row) until they woke the Fat Lady and stole inside. 

Marissa had stayed with her notes and parchment down in by the fireplace in the empty Common Room. "Come on, Riss, we need sleep," Lily had tried to urge her, one foot on the stairs. 

"It's Thursday, Lily, and I've still got to hand this in tomorrow," Marissa said quietly, not looking up. 

"I'll wait with you." 

Lily fell asleep sitting up in the armchair facing Marissa, who wrote steadily, her hand not shaking. She woke Lily when she was finished. 

Now, she was standing in front of Professor Flitwick after Charms class. She had told Lily to go on ahead, hoping that the boys would go too. She walked up to his desk and wordlessly handed the parchment to the professor. "Oh, yes, thank you," he squeaked. Then he looked her over, the same piercing look that she was giving him. "Let us see ... twenty-five points to Gryffindor if you've done a good job on this." 

"Professor," Marissa said softly, "you knew about my mother." 

It was not a question. "Yes, Marissa, I did," he said, his voice sounding almost sad as he shuffled the paper in his hands. "I have been meaning to assign you that task in the hopes that you would make this discovery." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Marissa asked him. 

"I wanted to be sure that you were ready," he replied. "When I heard about your - shall we call it a . . . rescue mission? - with your brother, I knew that you had been ready for some time." 

"But Professor, how could you know?" Marissa burst out. "I lived that day, and even so I had to connect them by intuition..." 

"You know I don't play favorites among my students," he assured her. "But your mother was a prefect for my house, and she was such fun to have in class. Kept me on my toes, rather like that James friend of yours. It was in my first year of teaching too, so I grew quite attached to all of those students. Not that I care about your class any less," he assured her hurriedly yet again. "But I kept track of all of them in a way that I can't do now. Your mother in particular. When she renounced magic, I actually confronted her, if you can believe I would be such an interfering clod. Said she shouldn't waste her gift. She tried to give me her wand, but I - I'm afraid to say I nearly flew into a temper at that," he said the last sentence with quite an air of nervousness about such a thing occurring. Marissa tried to stifle a giggle at the thought of Professor Flitwick being dangerously angry. "Oh, you may laugh," he said indulgently, with a smile, "but I was a champion dueler in my youth. Still quite feisty when that happened. Anyway, I put a tracker on your mother's wand so that I would know if she was using magic. Now, don't let that out, not technically a legal thing for anyone but an Auror to do, you understand. She didn't break it for eight years, but then I hear about her death. I took out the book then, to see if it could have anything to do with - oh, isn't this silly? I don't even know if it was Grindewald or Voldemort I was afraid might have attacked her! What's the world coming to? - but anyway, I looked to see if she had drawn her wand in self-defense and I saw a phrase that nearly broke my heart." 

Professor Flitwick was crying. Marissa was too. "Thank you for telling me that, Professor." 

"Are you glad that you know?" he asked her, taking out a handkerchief that looked too large for him though it was probably normal-sized. 

"I don't know," Marissa said honestly. "It's - she was so noble but. . .her death caused so much pain." 

"To you," he said. "And to your father and brother." 

"Yes," Marissa said softly. 

"And what do you think of her sacrifice?" the professor asked. 

"I suppose," Marissa said after a moment's pause. "I suppose I hope that I would have done the same thing in her place." 

Professor Flitwick beamed at her. "In many ways, you have." 

* * *

©KatyMulvaney4-12-04 


	6. Locked Hearts

**Chapter Six  
Locked Hearts**

"So, where's Sirius taking you tonight?" Marissa asked, looking up from her Potions textbook gratefully. Lily was, as she put it, "making herself presentable" through a combination of both their collections of make-up and hair supplies. For only two girls, they had a full dorms worth of this necessary equipment, even if Marissa was a borderline tomboy at fourteen. Lily was easily the more glamorous one, wearing her dark red hair in long, flowing curls instead of pinning it back in a sloppy ponytail like Marissa most of the time. However, it was not merely Lily's influence that led Marissa to wear make-up and pay special attention to her school uniform. It wasn't that she didn't care, it was just that she preferred to keep her hair out of the way as much as possible. It wasn't like her hair would ever equal Lily's anyway.

"He refuses to tell me," Lily giggled. "Normally I'd be petrified." 

"You do know it's suicide," Marissa agreed, holding her quill hopefully over the parchment as if hoping it would finish her essay on her own, "Going off alone with a Marauder to an unspecified location. And you know he's been planning this all day. He's been so distracted in class." 

"James and Sirius are always distracted in class," Lily waved this aside. 

"More than usual, I mean," Marissa clarified. "And not cutting up, either. Just sitting and thinking, almost looking like he was paying attention to the lesson. If no one called on him, that is." 

"Do you really think he's got something special planned?" Lily asked hopefully, turning around to face her friend instead of the mirror. 

"Yes, but not for tonight, silly goose," Marissa laughed. "He's probably saving all his surprises up for Valentine's Day. It's only a week away, he can't burn himself out too soon. You're lucky he's taking you out just about every night without expecting him to pull a whole fireworks display out of his sleeve every date." 

"I know," Lily sighed at her warning. "I really don't expect anything special tonight." 

"It would be more believable if you didn't say it in that dreamy voice," Marissa laughed, dropping her quill and rolling over off the bed. She came to stand behind Lily, taking the brush out of her hands and beginning to style her hair. 

"Can I help it if I love that he's a romantic?" Lily countered with a sigh. 

"Just don't ask for strawberries and champagne on school nights," Marissa said sagely. 

"I'm just happy to be with Sirius," Lily said more seriously but still in a slightly dreamy voice. "Riss, I. . .I think. . .I think I might be in love with him." 

Marissa dropped the lock of hair she had been about to pin in place. As she hastily fixed it, she asked, "Are you sure, Lils? I mean, you've only been going out for, what? Five weeks? True, it's the longest relationship Sirius has ever had and none of us expected him to make it half this far. . .but that's exactly the point. I know he's Sirius, Lils, and we all love him, but he's still - oh Lils he's still a Cassanova!" 

To Marissa's surprise, Lily snorted. "A _Cassanova?_ " she sputtered. 

"I'm just saying," Marissa said pointedly. "Don't give your heart away lightly." 

"I haven't, Riss," Lily replied. "You don't give it lightly to someone like Sirius. You have to fall hard to trust him like I do. I just believe that he won't ever hurt me." 

"He said you needed to talk," Marissa said, changing the subject slightly. "On your date tonight?" 

"Yes," Lily replied with a smile. "What do you think he wants to say?" 

Marissa hung her head for a moment, supposedly examining Lily's elaborate hair style. "I haven't the slightest, Lils." 

* * *

"I'm just saying picture it," Guilderoy Lockhart's voice cried excitedly at the next prefect's meeting. Usually, when the seventh year Gryffindor stood to talk everyone immediately tuned out his droning, but this was a very dangerous thing to do so close to a big holiday like Valentine's Day. "Confetti falling from the sky, cupids delivering love notes, flowers on every girls' pillow when she wakes up. It'll be a masterpeice."

"It'll be a peice of something," Gideon snorted, unable to contain himself. Usually, at this point Lizzie would have glared at him to shut up, but she was too horrified to chastize him for his outburst. 

Lockhart either hadn't noticed (which no one would put past him) or he chose to act as if the Head Boy hadn't spoken (and chortled) at his description of his plans for Valentine's morning. 

Luckily, not everyone's comments were so ignorable. "What are you a Squib?" Karkaroff had exclaimed in frustration. "Or just an idiot?" 

"There's no need for that," Lizzie said without her usual enthusiasm. 

"You'd never know you're a pureblood, you give us all a bad name," Karkaroff plowed on ahead, not noticing the slightly-less than appreciative looks some of the half-bloods (and the two Muggle-borns) were shooting him at these comments. "It's one thing for Muggle-borns to go on and on about things that don't exist, how would they know? But this is pathetic!" 

"Just what about my plan can't you stomache?" Lockhart said icily, still smiling broadly enough to display every single tooth. 

"How about my breakfast if you have confetti falling all over it?" Karkaroff responded in a rather nasty way. "Or how about the very small fact that CUPIDS DON'T EXIST? And just who is going to pay enough for EVERY bloody - " Lizzie cleared her throat. " - every ruddy girl in the school to have a flower? Have you ever counted them all, Lockhart? And just when are we going to do all this? Surely even you've figured out by now that the rooms have safeguards on them to keep any magic from being done from the outside." 

Marissa, who had been staring down at her blank notes pad during the entire meeting, smiled briefly at that. It was a lesson that the Marauders had learned the hard way, of course. In fact, that particular innovation may have been designed with people like the Marauders in mind, no nasty tricks could be played on the dorms unless you could get inside them. They were a safe area. Remus, sitting next to her, was encouraged to see the smile, but disheartened to see it fade a moment later. She had been like that ever since Mundungus left. 

"Well do you want to head up the decorations for Valentine's day, Karkaroff, since you're such an expert in the field of flowers and candy?" Lockhart sneered. 

Karkaroff lept to his feet, but Lizzie was faster. Gideon was on his feet as well. "That's enough, both of you. Igor, sit down. Your advice is appreciated though your manner of expression leaves something to be desired. Guilderoy," he smirked at Karkaroff and simpered at Lizzie, for all the world as if he were one of her great favorites, and she had just proved it, "He's right about how unrealistic your plans are. Unless you can rethink them, I suggest we get some else to handle the Valentine's Day preparations." Just about everyone at the table had to stifle a sigh of relief. "And I'd like you all to keep in mind our first-name policy. No formality among prefects." 

"Anyone?" Gideon asked hopefully, like most others in the room shooting a look at Marissa, expecting her to be the one to rescue them from the madman. She was silent, staring down at her blank parchment as if she had not even heard. "Anyone at all?" 

"I can rethink my plans," Lockhart muttered sullenly under his breath. 

Everyone fought back their groans. Beads of sweat were forming on Gideon's forehead. He was _not_ going to let this git pull any of his infamous stunts on his watch. "I suppose if no one else. . ." he said at last with a heavy air of despair. 

Suddenly, Marissa's voice was heard, saying softly, "Oh I don't know, Gideon. That seems a trifle unfair to poor Guilderoy. I mean, Valentine's Day is such a girl's holiday, how can we expect a boy to come up with the ideas for it?" 

She still didn't look up, but now everyone was staring at her with ill-disguised relief. They knew that Marissa Fletcher would come through and save them from Lockhart's over the top fiascos. Not because she was would do a conservative job of decorating; on the contrary, they fully (and probably accurately) expected Marissa to go over the top in her preparations, but at least her most outrageous ideas would have some class. There was always a method to Marissa's madness. Lockhart was just plain loony. "Are you volunteering?" 

"I'll need some help," Marissa said in a monotone. "But sure." 

"Why do I get the idea we just went out of the frying pan and into the fire?" Lizzie Walker laughed, receiving mute stares from the assemblage of bewildered purebloods and continued silence from Marissa. Not one to be abashed by this, she continued gaily, "Just make sure you don't give us singing telegrams, and I'll be happy." 

Unless Remus Lupin was very much mistaken, he saw the shadow of a twinkle in Marissa's eye. 

* * *

"Hey! Riss! Wait up!" Remus shouted, running down the corridor to catch up with her. "Riss," he said when he caught up, "I was thinking, you can't be planning to organize Valentine's Day by yourself, and as I'm sure you're going to pull off something incredible, I figure I'd enjoy being a part of that." 

"What are you talking about, Remus?" Marissa asked, still walking along, clutching a book to her chest. 

"Well, you're big surprise for Valentine's Day, I'd like to help," Remus repeated, feeling more flustered this time. 

"I'm getting tired of pulling rabbits out of a hat every day of the year," Marissa all but snapped. "I just took the assignment to keep it away from Lockhart. Isn't that enough for you people? What is you want from me?" 

"Riss. . ." it occured to Remus that he had nothing to say. He had never heard Marissa talk like that. He stopped short, staring after her. 

Marissa didn't stop to wait for him or glance back to see if he was still behind her. Remus stood still as he watched her back recede. 

"Don't be too hard on her," Lily's voice came from behind him, startling him. Her words startled him as well. He had never said a word against Marissa, although he rather felt like it now. "Whatever you may be thinking, you don't know. Try to forgive her words, or better yet just forget them, she's not herself." 

"She'll see her brother again," Remus said confusedly and almost hostilely. "And her mother's not any more dead than she was before. In fact, her death is more noble. I don't understand why she's acting like this." 

"You don't understand," Lily agreed. "I don't either." 

"I know, I mean, how many times has she told - " 

"No," Lily cut him off. "I mean, you don't understand. None of us do. We couldn't. Can you even imagine what it must be like to know nothing about your mother but what the page of a yearbook can tell? To know that she lied to you, and your father too. To know that she didn't have to die, that she might not have and then everything that's wrong with her family would be all right? And then wondering if that myth she's lived her whole life is even true, wondering why her mother hid her identity from her husband, wondering what she was like, and most of all wondering why she let herself die that night that Mundungus was born. And the only thing that she has to look to for answers is - " 

"An old yearbook," Remus finished, sounding as if he had suddenly understood something. Whether or not it was how Marissa was feeling is subject to debate, but he certainly understood that it was much more complex than he had been imagining it and that his friend was suffering far worse than he had believed. 

At that moment, Remus's friend was sitting in one of the few places that she could still trust to be utterly Marauder-free, where they wouldn't think to look for her so she could be alone. At least until they finished that map. The best part was that traces of Mundungus still lingered there to comfort and (occassionally) surprise her. The rip in the quilt, the smell in the pillow, the tape player that he had left behind, throwing it aside in frustration when he realized that it didn't work properly at Hogwarts and forgetting about it. All these things soothed the wounds she re-opened afresh every time she looked at the collection of yearbooks and photographs of her mother. 

This time was different, however. She would not gaze longingly at the figure of her mother, fight tears for a long time as she read of her and finally give in, no closer to solving any of the mysteries than before. She was curled up by the window with the seventh yearbook on her lap, open to her mother's page, but her mind was filled instead with the image of Remus's shocked face. His surprise at her show of frustration lingered there, forcing her to wonder if she had changed. When Gus left, she had been heartbroken, but at least she had let the Marauders and Lily cheer her up and even sought them out for that. Now, she wanted to avoid them. She wanted to savor this pain because it was the most she had had of her mother since she was six years old. And she wanted to wallow for awhile. Marissa was tired of being the cheery one, the sunny one, the one who went about pulling sickles out of crying first- and second-years' ears and settling fights with Slytherins. She just wanted to be depressed for awhile. She was tired of looking on the bright side of everything when her optimism had failed her. What bright side was there to this? Her mother had chosen to die. She might have lived. It was possible. You could never tell. Then she might have lived, and Gus died. It was an awful choice, but her death had so rent their family. And her mother had chosen that. Probably unknowingly, but chosen it all the same. Didn't she have a right to take the pessimistic view of that? 

Her gaze slipped down onto the page with her mother's picture. Her eyes were merry and laughing. What had happened to this girl that only a few years later she would choose such a thing? Every comment from her friends, every scrap of information that Marissa could gather from the yearbooks pointed to her being a happy, hopeful person. What could have brought her to such despair that she wouldn't take a chance on life anymore? That she would so believe her child was destined to die that she would bargain her life for his? 

She read the page for what felt like the thousandth time, but found nothing new. 

**Olivia Jane Nelson**   
_**Ravenclaw**_

__**Born:** September 3rd, 1937   
**Favorite Subject(s):** Charms, Astronomy   
**Credits:** Prefect 1951-1954, Quidditch Chaser 1950-1953, Outstanding Achievement in Charms, Meritorious Award for the Study of Ancient Runes   
**Nicknames:** Livy, Mother, Cupid   
**Best Remembered for:** Charming every couple on Valentine's Day so that the first time they kissed fireworks exploded and cherubs sung all around them.   
**Prediction for the Future:** Most likely to choose the pauper over the prince.

Almost in frustration, she turned the page slowly, and found something she hadn't noticed before. "A Word To Posterity" was written above a small box where words were written in a loopy handwriting. Marissa read them avidly, 

_"The only part of posterity that I have anything to say to, or indeed who would want to hear anything from me, is my future children. I won't tell them my secrets of life here, those I intend to say in person. But there is one thing that I will say because no one can ever hear it too often, even though they will probably think so I will say it so much: Live your life fully and completely every day. Don't waste a moment of it by being anything less that the person that you were meant to be, the person that you truly are._

The words rang in Marissa's heart as if an answer to her questions. It was an answer, but only to her latest question that she had thought she posed only to herself. Her mother had given her the answer to that question. Must she look within herself to find the answers she sought from her mother? But that did not concern her at the moment. Her mind was filled with her mother's words, but more importantly, her heart swelled with them. She had been wasting days ever since Gus left and she uncovered her mother's secret, days that her mother had sacrificed to give her child life. Days her mother would rebuke her for letting escape from her without embracing them, embracing them as she would surely throw her arms around her mother if she ever saw her again. That was how she had to greet each day. And how? Her mother had given her that answer as well. Be the person she was when she was at her best. That was her mother's message, and it would live in her heart forever. 

She closed the book, ready to jump up and live her mother's advice. Then she opened it again to the familiar page with her mother's picture once again. Her eyes fell on the amusing and tantalizing tidbit about what probably still lived in her mother's classmates memory. She smiled genuinely and mischieviously for the first time in days. _I think I have a fitting tribute to my mother's memory._

Lily and Remus were still talking when they saw Marissa come tearing madly up the hall, an all too familiar gleam in her eyes. Once she reached them, panting slightly from her long run, she grabbed onto Lily's arm to steady herself. "I changed my mind," she gasped. "I'll take you up on your help, Remus. I may have taken the job to get rid of Lockhart, but that doesn't mean this school deserves the best Valentine's Day yet!" 

"I have a feeling this is prefect's business, so I'll excuse myself," Lily began to slink away. 

"No," Marissa reached out to grab her arm before she was out of range. "Will you help too, Lils? I need your lovely singing voice." 

"You sing Lily?" Remus cried in surprise. 

Lily, on the other hand, was glaring threateningly at her. "Riss, you promised no more plans that involve me singing," she said in the most threatening voice that Remus had ever come out of Lily, and quite possibly out of anyone. 

"Wait a minute, what other time did she make you sing?" Remus asked in confusion. 

Marissa laughed, to her friends' mild but pleasant surprise, "Don't worry. It was memorable, but only for about five seconds before she wiped everyone's memory," she laughed again as Lily shot her yet another look. Remus's eyes bugged out a little further. "I ducked," she explained to his questioning look. "You know her aim, she didn't try again." 

"When you're quite done!" Lily cried in exasperation. Marissa made puppy-dog eyes at her, something that reminded Remus distinctly of Sirius. "All right! All right! It's too good to see that maniacal look in your eyes again!" 

"YES!" Marissa cried and, in what both considered an extreme overreaction, gave a little jump and twirled around, attracting many eyes in the corridor. "I've got to go find Lizzie." She promptly ran off in the general direction of the Head Girl. 

Lily glanced at Remus, laughing aloud at the worried look on his face when they had just a moment before been anxious that she had been morose. Remus laughed too. "It is good to see Riss like that again," he said and Lily nodded. "I just wish it didn't come at the expense of one of her _ideas._ " Lily laughed again. 

* * *

From that point on, it was all banners and tissue paper flowers until Lily thought she would hurl the next time she saw anything either red or pink. As all she had to do to see the Gryffindor red was look down on her sweater, this was very unfortunate. Marissa's enthusiasm, on the other hand, seemed only to grow. Remus worked with her on the Special Presentation that had been announced for V-Day and the other little extras that Marissa was planning. It had been announced to the other prefects who, almost unanimously, thought it was the kind of idea that Lockhart would have come up with. Needless to say, he volunteered. So did the rest of Marissa's house probably purely out of loyalty. Unfortunately, this caused Marissa to have to scavenge for others to fill the parts. Peter, surprisingly, took up this challenge almost immediately. As did Sirius's new girlfriend Belle Schloss.

As for being left out of the Special Presentation, the prefects generally seemed to be of the opinion that if the Gryffindors (with the notable addition of the Head Boy) wanted to make fools of themselves, they could go for it, just count them out. The general sentiment of their houses seemed to be that if the Gryffindors (with the notable addition of the Head Boy) were cooking up something that their more dignified prefects wanted no part of, they weren't about to miss it. Whether or not it was true that Cliff Wright was far less outgoing than Remus Lupin or that Stacy Meirson was more reserved than Alice Longbottom, it was now irrefutably the impression in everyone's mind that the Gryffindor prefects were the ones who could cut lose and go through with something crazy once and awhile. Not that they didn't think it was crazy too. They thought Marissa had gone loopy, to tell the truth. But they also thought it would be fun, and there was no harm in letting your guard down occassionally. 

Those who received detentions from the other prefects (Remus and Marissa had virtually stopped assigning them) were not so happy about being put to work on her projects. She even assigned a few of them to work the curtains for the special performance. Most, however, ended up helping her fold paper-cranes in the house colors by the thousands until late at night. If it was the right kind of person, this could be fun for perhaps the first hour, but most got tired of it long before Marissa did. Eliza Lavelle, the Ravenclaw sixth year prefect, commented to Lizzie that she felt sorry for Marissa for having to worry about all the song and dance of Valentine's Day so soon after her brother left the castle. This was a gross misunderstanding of Marissa's attitude. She loved having to coordinate a million things at once, she gloried in it. 

The only real worry that she had was Sirius. Sirius Black didn't do well when he was lonely, and she suspected that he was quite acutely lonely every night that week, especially after Marissa conned James into also helping with the Special Presentation, for which they had rehearsals every night, even when Marissa had to host a detention. By Wednesday he was provoking Karkaroff repeatedly so that he would have an excuse to get Marissa to set him paper cranes in the next room over from all of the Marauders and even his girlfriend. After this hectic week dawned a bright and clear Thursday morning the thirteenth of February. 

It was a glorious day right up until the moment that Lily thundered down on Marissa as they were getting the stage set up. "I won't do it, I tell you! I refuse!" she shouted, startling Gideon Prewett so that he almost fell off the ladder nearby. "I will not sing _that_ song with James Potter!" 

Marissa, after steadying Gideon's ladder with a flick of her wand, sighed and turned to her friend, "What'd he do now?" 

"Don't patronize me, Marissa Fletcher," Lily snapped. "I will not sing a duet with him. Find someone else." 

"Whom do you suggest, Lily?" Marissa asked her tiredly, having been up all night watching a Hufflepuff who had smarted off to Alexia Parkinson polish all the trophies in the Trophy Room because Alexia didn't think it was a fitting punishment to fold paper shapes when the crime was insubordination (to her). "And at such short notice? No, really, what did he do now?" 

"Have Remus sing his part," Lily said firmly, but it was a suggestion rather than an order, almost a plea. 

"You know that he can't," Marissa said with a sigh. "It'll give away the game too soon." 

"Then Peter," she tried, sounding more adamant to Gideon above the conversation than to Marissa who knew her so well. 

"No one would believe that Frank's a tenor," Marissa replied. Though this would not appear to be a real obstacle, Lily seemed to accept this logic as irrefutable and bit back a cry of frustration. It was at that moment that Marissa noticed Sirius out of the corner of her eye walking through the Entrance Hall (they were setting up in a side chamber but Dumbledore would magically transport it out into the Great Hall after dinner). "Believe me, it's the only way," Marissa assured her, keeping her eyes on Sirius's retreating back. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said ducking quickly out of the bedlam in the room. 

Lily's voice followed her out, growing more irate with each comment, "What about Belle singing my part?. . .Riss?. . .Don't pretend you can't hear me, Marissa Fletcher, I know how much you can hear!" But Marissa had affected not to listen to any more of her best friend's complaints and was heading up the stairs that Sirius had taken. _"Marissa!"_

She fell into step just behind Sirius, following him wordlessly and wondering if he had noticed. He probably didn't, he was the type to say something about it. Unless he was saving it up to make a stalker joke of some kind. That would be typical Sirius. The problem was, he _hadn't_ been typical Sirius for the past week. And despite her laments for his style of humor, Marissa missed the old Sirius. Sirius stopped quite suddenly and ducked into a room that Marissa had never thought to enter on a corridor she usually avoided. It had an unpleasant memory attached. Marissa wondered if he came here often, if that was why he had been there so quickly to rescue her that day. 

_No more thoughts of that day,_ she told herself sternly. That was the last thing that she needed at the moment. 

She followed him in tentatively. He did not look up for almost a minute. When he spoke, the sound made her jump. "Congratulations, Fletcher," he said, not looking at her. "You've found yet another secret. My private sanctum." 

"Considering you're developing a map to find out mine, I'd say we're even," Marissa replied calmly in the face of his sarcasm laced with anger. The problem was, both were very faint, almost as if he didn't have the heart to be truly offended that she had invaded his sanctuary. "Not that it was hard to do, considering all I had to do was follow you." 

"And why were you doing that?" he said rotely, as if the answer didn't really interest him but he knew the question was expected. 

"You've been uncharacteristically serious lately," she replied. 

"You've been characteristically nosy lately," he countered bitingly, seeming to get more into the spirit of the conversation at this. 

"You're being characteristically insulting," Marissa returned. "Though the degree seems greater." There was silence only for a moment before, "You play?" 

"No," Sirius shot back, "I just sit here staring at the piano." 

"Well then will you 'stare at' a peice of music for me?" Marissa asked, knowing the instant it was out of her mouth that she had taken a bit of a risk. For a moment, she was sure from the look on Sirius's face that it was going to backfire, but the moment passed and a less aggressive look came into his eyes. In fact, it was almost, if it could be believed, _vulnerable._

Wordlessly, he turned to the grand piano in the room and struck up a flowing song that Marissa had never heard before. She wondered if it was by a wizard composer or a Muggle one. Not that she was enough of a fan of classical music to be able to tell the difference. Marissa made a mental note to ask him how he had come upon this room, certain that it made a good story (and that if it didn't Sirius would change it until it did). "Such a melancholy melody," Marissa sighed, coming to stand behind him. 

"I come here when I'm in a melancholy mood," Sirius replied tersely, "For comfort." 

Marissa was silent, in case he was offended that she'd tried to talk to him while he was playing, until he finished the peice with a flourish. "Do you mind if I stay?" she asked him as he turned the page to the next song in the book. "Just to warn you I'll probably be asking nosy questions before long." 

"I'll be doing the same thing whether or not you're here," he said non-commitally, but Marissa could tell that he preferred to have her there. 

He struck the opening chords before Marissa could ask him her next question. After a few phrases, he spoke aloud, "I come up here to think. You're the first person to know about it." 

"Why did you come here today?" Marissa asked in what she hoped was a casual yet caring way that wouldn't frighten him off or make him think she wasn't willing to listen. Everything was a delicate balance in dealing with Sirius. 

"Andromeda's married. She's pregnant," Sirius said simply. 

"Andromeda, your cousin?" Marissa said in surprise. "I always liked her back when we were in first year." 

Marissa was going to continue, but Sirius said at that moment, "So did I." 

"Then why - " 

"Mum's over the moon about it for some reason, the pregnancy at least," Sirius said stiffly. "And Trix was saying something about how she's not working." 

Marissa still didn't understand, but said nothing, knowing that it would all come out in Sirius's own time. He seldom did anything according to any other schedule. "Don't you see?" he said the next moment. "She sold out. She married up well enough to please my family and then plans on doing nothing else with her life and talent than breeding more Black babies to plague the world. And she's my favorite cousin. I thought she was better than all the rest of the Black sisters. I thought she was something different. That she wouldn't do this. I know you haven't got as picturesque a family as we all assumed, Riss, but at least the ones that you thought would turn out good really did. Andie failed me. The one I thought would. . .to think I once thought that she was going to marry Ted Tonks! I was so proud of her when she ran away from home to be with him. That's when I really thought I could do it, you know? Break with my family. For good. Now, just a few years later, she's apparently dumped the Muggleborn and married pure and slimy enough to reinstate her with everyone." 

"It doesn't necessarily mean he's horrible, Sirius," Marissa said carefully. "Afterall, it doesn't sound like she wanted any of your family to come to the wedding - " 

"But she didn't send me an invitation either," Sirius countered, "And she would have if she were marrying someone like Tonks. She had to know that I would find a way to get there. But no." They were silent for a long moment, the mournful song weaving around them in an almost spellbinding way. "And I just can't help but wonder if that's what's going to happen to me. It's like this peice of music. I have to play exactly what the composer wrote, but I can interpret it how I please. But I'm still playing his music. Is that the most that I can hope for in my life? I'm just afraid that I'll be all rebel and brave and noble for awhile, but sooner or later I'll end up just like them and do something twice as slimy as before just to get them to take me back." 

"Andromeda's not you, Sirius," Marissa said quietly. "When was the last time you let them tell you what to think?" 

"That's just the thing though," Sirius said. "You remember that howler Mother sent when I started dating Lily?" 

"Vividly," Marissa replied with a shudder. 

"Then when she started writing to me after I broke up with her. . .I remember being so furious about her insinuations that I believed what she had said that I almost went back to Lily, and I think I would have if it hadn't been because of James in the first place," Sirius told her. "But then I thought that letting them control me by _not_ doing what they want just because they don't want it is still letting them determine the course of my life. And then there's the fact that. . .have you picked up on that fact that any relationship I've had since then that's lasted more than a week has been with a genuine-article pureblood? Look at Belle, they'd love a Schloss alliance. Would provide a connection to the Cavanols which they've been craving for generations. Had Andie all but engaged to one, or so they thought. I wonder if that's who she ended up. . ." 

"Don't make too much of whom you date, Sirius, not while you're still at Hogwarts," Marissa replied. "With a few notable exceptions, you're more learning how to date than finding a bride. And even when you do start looking in earnest, the most important thing is not to worry about what anyone, especially your family in your case, thinks whether they're thrilled or horrified. It's your life and your decision, find someone you love. Don't toss her aside for your family or to spite your family." 

"It's not Valentine's Day, yet, Fletcher," Sirius replied cheekily. "Don't use all your best lines on someone with a steady date already." 

Marissa laughed. "Very well, Sirius, but let me just say this, I have every confidence that you won't be just another one of the Blacks, even if Andie is. You're different, Sirius, and it shows." 

"I guess it just wasn't the best week for me to be on the outside looking in with all of you putting your heads that didn't have to beg the Sorting Hat to be placed in Gryffindor together on a project that I don't think my family would aprove of," Sirius said. "Not when I was already wondering how many of my choices are designed to please them, however much I may think I loathe them." 

"It's hard to loathe family, Sirius," Marissa said. "And I don't just mean it's hard to get to that point. It's hard once you're there and for the rest of your life. It doesn't just take one burst of courage to cut yourself out, it takes constant courage to stand firm against someone who knows you so well and shares your past so completely. And believing you're like them can be so easy considering you come from the same place. . .but the thing is," she said looking him directly in the eye, "You are not them. And I have a strong feeling that you never will be, Sirius Black. Where that name with pride, both parts of it. For you are not one of the Blacks anymore, you're what they all could have been but lacked the courage to be." 

"I thought Andie had courage." 

"She did once," Marissa replied. "Don't ever let yours go, she'll pay a dear price for it in the end. Worse than the price she was paying for losing her family." 

"Are you a Seeress, now, Riss?" 

"Don't tease, Sirius," Marissa replied, smacking him lightly on the arm. 

"I'm sorry, Riss, but I'm afraid it's in my blood." 

* * *

That night, Marissa sat up in the Common Room beside a vast tub of paper cranes in all the House colors. She'd take them two at a time and wave her wand briefly over both of them whispering quietly enough that no one knew quite what she was saying. After she charmed them, she placed them in another tub that gradually filled as the other emptied, but so slowly that every time someone looked over there they had trouble detecting a real difference. Marissa, however, was quite cheerful about her tedious looking task. It may have been novel at first, the way that the cranes immediately flew up, locked necks as they twirled down to the table together, but it it was hard to imagine it maintaining its charm as long as the tub beside her maintained its supply of the cranes (a great many people had managed to offend prefects that week, an astounding number had had biting comments about the Special Presentation, and Marissa had been folding them diligently as well).

"So, Riss, are you planning to tell us what you're going to do with all of these love-sick birds?" James Potter asked cheekily as he sat down at the table opposite her. "Since it's obvious you can't send them to Hiroshima's Peace Park in that condition." 

Marissa looked up in surprise, "You know about Peace Day? How?" she cried, looking at her friend in shock. 

James rolled his eyes, "Honestly, Riss. I expected it of Lily, but not of you. I can _read,_ can't I? Or have we gotten to the point in our friendship that you doubt that as well? I know you remember everything, you make a point of pointing it out to us often enough. So did you forget that Peter gave me that book on Sadako Sasaki, the girl who tried to fold all those paper cranes to get the gods to heal her of leukaemia, or did you just think I wouldn't read it?" 

"So would you be insulted if I said I was impressed?" Marissa asked playfully, quickly charming another pair of matching paper cranes in the bright canary yellow of Hufflepuff. "Or would you take the compliment with a grain of salt?" 

"I'm afraid Lily's the only one of our number who holds herself so tightly within herself that she could build up enough pressure to turn a grain of salt into a pearl," James replied almost sadly. 

"That's sand, not salt, James," Marissa laughed. "And you're being unkind to Lily." 

"Well, isn't that the old rule turned on it's head," James replied bitterly. "I suppose she's the only one with any right to be unkind to me?" 

"Does criticizing her make you worry of her kindness?" Marissa retorted quickly, but mostly she did out of loyalty to her friend. Inwardly, she thought that James may have a point. But it would do no good to point it out to him. James Potter could be sweet and carrying when he set his mind to it. The problem came in how seldom he set his mind to it. 

"I can see that trading barbs will get us nowhere," James laughed, surprising her. She supposed she shouldn't have expected her words to suddenly penetrate his thick skull when he had already heard them so many times before. She suppressed a sigh all the same. "And you've cleverly dodged giving me the slightest hint about these little beauties," James told her with a wink. "But I assure you that I didn't come here to pry into your precious little secrets. I simply saw a damsel in distress and - " 

"You just had to rush to her rescue." 

"It would wound my honor if I did not, fair lady," James said in an exaggerated gallant voice. "I entreat thee, allow me to be of service, I shall raise my wand and vanquish the load you have taken upon yourself." 

"Be careful of your knight errant act, James," Marissa replied. "You may do it too close to a dragon one of these days." 

"I have already met the one of which you speak," James countered cheekily. "The fair flame-haired one who breathes fire upon me at my every approach." 

"And you wonder why!" Marissa cried. "I hope you've never said something like that to Lily's face!" 

"Fair damsel, allow me to assist you, I pray thee," James dodged her barb, stubbornly persisting in the act. "Per chance tell of my deeds will soften the heart of the dragon, or if not, my chivalry towards all damsels in distress shalt make me more worthy of such a fair prize as she." 

"Do you ever have any thoughts that aren't tied up in Lily? Do you ever do any kind act except for her?" Marissa asked with a sigh. 

"Thou dost me an injustice, fair damsel," James replied laughingly, choosing not to be offended by her barb. 

"Well, I wouldst be a fool to turn away the help of such a knight, even if he is a jester at heart," Marissa replied, moving the large tub of cranes so that he could reach them as well. "You'll need your wand, I assume you have it concealed in some novel and slightly alarming place?" 

"The fair lady overestimates- " 

"Okay, that needs to stop." 

"Sorry to disappoint you," James answered in his normal voice. "Milady," he couldn't stop help but add cheekily. "But it's just in my pocket." He withdrew it nonchalantly and looked up to find Marissa giving him a smile in return. "So, what's the encantation?" 

"One of my own invention," Marissa replied, "I suppose you might as well know what they're going to do. I'm charming them in pairs," she took her most recent pair in Ravenclaw blue in her hands to demonstrate, "so that couples can buy them and send messages to eachother across the Great Hall, you know, the ones in other houses. And considering we're not supposed to go off alone," she affected her best prefect's voice at this but there was a twinkle in her eye as she said it, "It would be ideal for having a private conversation in a crowded place like the Common Room or Courtyard." She tossed James one of the cranes, then brought the other gently to her lips where she whispered some words into it. 

She held out her hand again and both the crane she had whispered to and the crane in James's hand took off immediately. They flew to meet eachother, touched wings and circled for a moment as if in the joy of meeting, then turned to fly back to their respective keepers. However, while Marissa's came to rest on her shoulder and sat still, James's flew to his ear and he the next moment he heard Marissa's voice whisper, "My pets are very discreet." 

James smiled, genuinely. He caught the crane before it could return to his shoulder and whispered to it, "Your pets are clever, as is their mistress." The two cranes began their flying ritual again, and Marissa extended her hand to guide the bird to her ear, blushing slightly with the compliment when she heard the whisper. She too, caught it and whispered to it again. James, following her example, extended his hand for the crane and heard her whisper in his ear, "Pity the spell only lasts a day, charming way to communicate." 

"Secretive as well," James impishly whispered to the crane. 

After Marissa received his message, Marissa sent it back with the message, "Wonderfully so. Perfect way for me to tell you the encantation; you'll have to watch me for the wand movement. It's _De Bode Van Liefde._ " 

"And how do we take it off them?" James asked aloud. Marissa almost looked startled. "For when we're not telling secrets?" 

"I'm not about to tell you _that_ one, James, if you're so adamant against secrets," Marissa laughed at him, scooping the paper crane off his shoulder, tapping it and hers with her wand while barely moving her lips, and throwing them back into the bin. James laughed at her secretiveness. 

"And you complain about _our_ retention!" he guffawed. 

"Well you boys take it to extremes," she said with a straight face. James howled anew at her apparent hypocrisy. 

"And that little display there wasn't extreme?" James said when he had recovered somewhat. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, James," Marissa replied, plucking two cranes out of the bin and charming them deftly. 

James followed suit and they were silent except for the whispered spells for a few minutes. "So, how do you charm them to go to the right person? Do they both have to be standing there?" 

"No," Marissa replied automatically. "If she's not standing there, you can go and put it on her shoulder - " Marissa stopped. James smirked mischieviously. "Is there any point in saying not to, James?" 

"None whatsoever, milady," James replied. "Ask of me any task but that I cease to be that which I am." 

"I'd never dream of it, James," Marissa laughed. "No one who knew you would." 

"I can think of someone," James said darkly, looking up as Lily entered the Common Room looking highly excited and borderline giddy. She was scanning the crowd eagerly, looking for her best friend. Marissa looked up and saw her, cheerfully waving her over. 

As if to prove James's theory, Lily scowled when she saw the company that her best friend was keeping and instead made a beeline for the stairs. Marissa and James both sighed as they watched her head up the staircases. "You want to take that back, Riss?" James asked with his eyes downcast. 

"Not particularly, no, why?" Marissa asked as if she hadn't noticed Lily's reaction, or perhaps to indicate that it didn't change her statement. The latter was more likely, but James didn't feel like responding all the same. They worked in silence for a long while before comfortable conversation rose up between them again. 

* * *

Lily pounced on Marissa the moment that she climbed her weary way up the stairs to the dorm room she and Lily shared. "Why did you do that?" she cried, looking like she had purposely put their two beds between them to keep herself from leaping across the room and strangling her best friend. "Why did you have to do that?"

"What, Lils?" Marissa asked tiredly, having finally charmed the last of the paper cranes and feeling as if all she wanted in the world was to crawl into her bed and go to sleep before her big day tomorrow. 

"Oh don't play dumb, as if you didn't do it on purpose!" Lily cried, obviously enraged. "You had to go and try to ruin a perfectly wonderful evening!" 

"Your date went well, then?" Marissa asked dully, normally she would have perked up slightly but not when she had just spent the last few hours talking with James Potter, often about how much he adored her best friend whom she knew was out on a date. 

This was apparently Lily's opinion as well. "Yes, no thanks to your attempted sabotage in warning me it wouldn't be like Sirius's dates." 

"That was a joke! It's completely unfair to throw that in my face, I had no _idea_ you'd react that badly!" Marissa cried in protest, sleep no longer on her mind. 

Lily had apparently decided not to acknowledge her comment, "And then to sit with James bleeding Potter for no reason at all except to try and make me think, in some desperate ploy, that I cared how he would react if I went on a date! You just couldn't accept that I don't like him and are trying to throw him at me at a time when all I wanted to do was rush over and tell you every detail-" 

"Oh for Christ's sakes, Lily Evans!" Marissa shouted over her in anger. "We've been over this before. I have absolutely no intention of ending either my friendship with you or James. If you had an actual _reason_ why you thought he would mess up two of his best friends' happiness then I would have to choose a side, which would be yours by the way, but since you have no proof and are holding onto this grudge for the sole reason of being stubborn and pig-headed, I see no reason why _I_ have to lose a very good friend who, by the way, was the only one of you five kind enough to help me charm the ton of paper cranes that I had to set the detentionites doing. Thank you very much." There was a long pause. "And one more thing, Lily. Did you ever consider that the fact that you reacted this way proves that you _do_ care what James thinks of you going on a date?" Lily looked about to retort, but Marissa walked angrily over to her vanity and forcefully pulled out her make-up remover. "How was it, by the way?" she asked in an only slightly less hostile voice. 

"Wonderful," Lily said, also sounding as if she too hadn't quite let go of her hostility. An awkward silence descended on them for a moment, Lily standing in place not moving and Marissa feverishly getting ready for bed. "But you were right," she said softly. Marissa turned to look at her, "He's not Sirius." 

"There's only one," Marissa said more sympathetically, "Thank Merlin." Lily laughed slightly. A moment later, Marissa couldn't stand it anymore. She put down her brush and turned around in her seat to look directly at Lily. "You were so happy when you came into the Common Room, anyone could see that. Don't be all depressed now, not because of something that I did." 

"I know and you know it's not something you did on purpose," Lily said slowly. "I'm sorry for saying that. I know you wouldn't have put James through that, he looked so hurt when he saw me come in." 

"I wouldn't put you through it either," Marissa said softly. 

Lily shook her head. "I don't care, Riss." Just who she was trying to convince was not certain, but it was fairly clear that they were not convinced. 

"So, is he going to be your Valentine tomorrow?" Marissa asked in a more light-hearted manner. 

"Yes," Lily said, a smile gracing her face but not so broad a one as when she had entered Gryffindor Tower. 

"You're lucky, to already have a doting Valentine squared away," Marissa said with a mock-sigh at her lack of love life. 

Lily snorted. "With all the work you've done, Riss, the whole school's your Valentine tomorrow." 

* * *

A violin was playing Pocabelli's Cannon. Lily groaned and rolled over in the bed almost without noticing the difference in the wake up call and pressed the snooze button on the alarm. Immediately, the violin stopped. Marissa, on the other hand, all but lept out of bed and scurried to her dressing table to grab her robes before hurrying off to the Prefect's Bathroom. Five minutes later, instead of emitting either its customary buzz or string music, the alarm clock said quite loudly in Marissa's voice, "Happy Valentine's Day!. . .Oh for goodness sake - WAAAAAKKKKKEEE UUUUUUUUUUUP!!!!" Lily sat bolt upright at the sound of her best friend's yell. A large box of chocolates fell into her lap the moment that she did.

Lily was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but it didn't take her very long to determine that Marissa was not, in fact, in the room. After that, it wasn't too difficult to determine that her voice was some kind of recording as it kept repeating this same message every few minutes. Lily finally managed to turn it off. She grabbed the pair of glasses that she kept by her bedside table and looked at the small card attached to the box of chocolates, "Good morning, Lils!" was written in Marissa's large, round script. 

"Oh good morning yourself," Lily grumbled for all the world as if her friend were in the room. Lily sighed and threw back the covers, deciding that if she had to wake up at this ungodly hour to please the school authorities, waking up to chocolates being dropped into your lap wasn't a half bad way to do it. By the time she had washed up in the bathroom at the base of the Girls' side of the Tower, Lily was even awake enough to be ready for whatever Marissa had planned for breakfast that she didn't want her to miss. Or so she thought. 

* * *

In the Fifth Year Dorm on the opposite side of the Tower, however, the boys did not get the benefit music as their first warning that Marissa had been tinkering with their alarm clocks. "Happy Valentine's Day boys!" they heard her chirp first thing in the morning when their alarms should have gone off. "Get up and greet the day. . .come on, don't make me. . ." As if she could see that there was no response from them, she suddenly shouted, her voice filling the room quite easily, "GET OUT OF BED YOU LAZY HEADS!" Peter and Sirius were jolted by this outburst, but James and Remus appeared unmoved (they both slept like the dead). However, something that even the nearly-dead cannot ignore is a very heavy box of chocolates being dropped on your head. This is what happened to all four of the Marauders.

On the note were written the words, "Don't spoil your breakfasts." 

"I am now taking bets," Sirius, easily the most morning-oriented of the group, began, "On just what that crazy chick has cooked up that she's so desperate that none of us miss breakfast." 

* * *

Marissa was sitting enshrined in a cloud of light pink at a small table in the center of the hall just under the staff table. All around her on the table were dozens of paired paper cranes. Canary yellow Hufflepuff cranes, midnight blue Ravenclaws, emerald green Slytherin cranes (these remained largely untouched) and ruby red Gryffindor cranes. She was selling them to couples for two sickles, leaning in close to whisper to them how to use them to send messages to eachother. When a blushing, giggling girl wasn't dragging a blushing, mortified boy up to see her, she was to be seen sitting at the table complacently humming slightly to herself. Every once and awhile she would wave her wand at a few of them, and they would leap into the air and spin around her head for awhile before she called them off.

Lily entered at the same time as the Marauders. "She wake you guys up in a highly indecent way as well?" Lily asked them as they made their way over to her small table. 

"Dropped a big box of chocolates ontop of our heads," Peter said, smiling warily. "Hit me rather hard, I'll have a bump there." 

"Mine fell in my lap, nice and soft," Lily said in confusion. 

Remus let out a bark of laughter, "And here I thought she just didn't get the encantation quite right! She wanted to make sure we got up I guess!" 

"Why that-" Sirius began, but James elbowed him as they walked up to the table where Marissa sat smiling sweetly up at them all. "Watch it, Prongs! There are less violent ways of telling a man to stuff it," Sirius said huffily. 

"What man?" James asked innocently. 

"Oh stuff it." 

"Good morning!" Marissa trumpeted at them when she looked up and saw them. "You boys didn't ruin your breakfast, did you?" 

"That's it, we can't eat a bite now, she's obviously jinxed it somehow," Sirius said, eying her shrewdly. "The question is how. You didn't tell her the location of the kitchens, did you Moony?" Remus shook his head. "Hm, that would indicate that it was spellwork, and something she could cast if she got down here before us, which she obviously did. When did she leave the dorm, Lily? Did you see?" 

"It's a little difficult to tell, she left her voice behind. It could have been anytime I suppose," Lily answered, mimicking his tone. She ran her hand over her chin, massaging her non-existent goatee. "That gives her any amount of time, goodness knows no one else in this hall is capable of noticing what she's up to, unequipped for the challenge. You rule out help from the house elves too quickly, though, I think. Couldn't she have caught one as they were tiding up last night? Didn't she and James stay up very late? James, who went to bed first, you or Riss?" 

James jumped. Was Lily actually talking civilly to him? "Her, Lils, she followed you up about thirty minutes later," James answered. 

Lily stiffened at the nickname and turned to glare at him. James ignored her, and she eventually turned back to Marissa. James took this chance to slide one of the pairs of crimson cranes and gently set one of them on Lily's shoulder where it clashed splendidly with her hair observed by his smirking friends. James set the other crane on his shoulder, biding his time and planning his attack. Marissa, who noticed the crane on his shoulder, tried and failed to look stern to warn him off. It was all too plain that she was amused. 

"Believe me, guys, just go sit down and enjoy your breakfast," Marissa said with a smile. "Oh, and Remus, if you could take the money up to the Prefects Office after breakfast for me? It's right near the Muggle Studies Class Room if you take the back way and I'd have to trudge a mile to get there from the North Tower." 

"Sure thing, Riss," Remus replied in the same nonchalant tone while the others fretted about possible sabotages of breakfast, "How much have you made?" 

"Haven't counted, but probably about five galleons, not bad considering it cost next to nothing," Marissa replied. "That and it's bringing joy to the school." 

In all truth, the cranes could more accurately be described as bringing a great deal of confusion to the school. Yes, some couples were quite happily whispering sweet nothings in eachother's ears, quite happy with to have their private moment under the watchful eyes of the professors and the giddy eyes of their girlfriends and contemptuous eyes of their single male friends. Other couples who were in different houses were thrilled that they, for once, had the opportunity to eat their meals together (in a bizarre way). However, James was not the only one who had managed to plant a crane on an unsuspecting and quite unwilling potential Valentine. Sirius (no one wanted to know how, REALLY) had planted one on Karkaroff's girlfriend Annette and had been sending it back and forth to her with insulting comments about her boyfriend that he could not hear or respond to as the crane would niether tell him the message or take one of his angry diatribes back to the Gryffindor table. And Annette, despite being a Slytherin, was far too delicate to repeat them as Karkaroff insisted vehemently as Sirius waved cheekily at the couple. Lockhart had also managed to set a crane on his girlfriend at the Hufflepuff table, or rather former girlfriend as became abundantly clear when she started trying to swat the message bearing bird away. It flew more and more frantically around her, fretting as she continually hit it away before she had to listen to his speeches. She seemed equally unwilling to listen to Lockhart's vain groveling (Lockhart was perhaps the only person alive who could grovel vainly) or hurt the poor crane which was flying about and looking almost alive. 

After several minutes during which the crane became increasingly annoying to everyone at both tables in the vicinity, Narcissa Black snatched the crane from the air and frustratedly tore it in half. It immediately dropped to the ground and twitched almost grotesquely with its one remaining wing. A Hufflepuff first year in particular looked quite scandalized as did Lockhart's ex. Narcissa turned back around nonchalantly as the Hufflepuffs arranged an ad-hoc funeral for the former pest. 

And, of course, none of this came close to equalling Lily's reaction. The first time that James sent a message to her through the crane (no one was sure what he said for the obviuos reason that niether of them was likely to repeat it, but it wasn't hard to get a general idea), she lept to her feet in rage and began to scream at him. Or would have, if the crane hadn't been the only thing that heard her voice (and James a moment later received her shrieks full blast in his ear though he did an admirable job of not showing the strain). It was one of the stranger sights that they had ever seen, Lily red faced in rage towering over James Potter her mouth open and moving _very_ fast, but not a sound coming out though she was breathing very hard by the end of it. No one was sure what she said, of course, but it apparently was not sufficient, for James merely calmly whispered something to the crane again and sent it to her. 

Lily threw it violently at him, but when it only returned to her, trying to deliver its message unperturbed, she turned and fled the Great Hall, the bird flapping wildly a few feet behind her. Almost everyone tried valiantly not to laugh, honestly they did. But it was no good. The sight was too ridiculous for even Marissa to hold back her chuckles. Truth be told, Lily was lucky that she left when she did. She was spared the sudden showering of confetti that fell from the ceiling of the Great Hall a moment later the instant the platters of food disappeared. Everyone was covered almost instantly in light pink hearts, much to the dismay of the more manly students and even professors. 

Marissa's life appeared to be in a near and apparent danger for a few confused minutes until the first group managed to struggle through the light pink cloud of fog and realized that once they stepped out of the Great Hall the confetti stayed behind. Argus Filch would be out for her blood until the day she graduated, but everyone else could forgive Marissa for the temporary frosting she had visited on them. The Marauders, who had stubbornly refused to eat breakfast, walked up the Marble Staircase with Marissa congratulating her on chaos that had ensued, however briefly. As they slowly splintered off, Marissa found herself walking with Sirius up to the North Tower for Divination. 

Just as the bell rang, the trap door swung open and the ladder slowly descended, making Marissa wonder if Galda (she was only called Professor MacBone by other teachers) was in the habit of levitating it down to produce a more spectacular effect or if the ladder was merely charmed to unroll slowly. If she was levitating it every time, she could save her stregnth. The manuvuer hadn't impressed them since third year. However, today things did not go as usual. Sirius, apparently feeling outdone by Marissa's pink snowstorm in the Great Hall, had directed his wand at the ladder and kept causing it to shoot violently back into the Tower Room. "Ah, looks like we can't get to Divination today! Sorry Professor!" he shouted up when her head appeared in the Trap Door for the first time in anyone's memory. 

"I sensed your presence, Mr. Black, and I do not appreciate your antics. If your aura did not clearly show how truly remorseful you are, I would be very angry indeed. Now come inside please," Galda said in an, there was no other way to put it, unearthly voice. Sirius turned to Marissa whose eyes were shining with suppressed laughter at the idea of Sirius's remorse. Sirius shrugged his good fortune that the old bat's insanity had worked in his favor. In fact, the old bat's insanity worked in Sirius's favor alarmingly often. So much so that Marissa had several times been on the verge of asking her if she wanted to join the James Potter (and unofficially Sirius Black) fan club. Each time she had decided that her aura was unlikely to be contrite enough to pacify the professor afterward. 

Though her proclamation did not chastize Sirius, it did cause him to lower his wand and allow the ladder to crash to the floor. Even so, no one was very excited about touching it considering that Sirius had not often shown consideration for who would be inconvenienced (student, ghost or professor) in his pranks and even less tendency to know when to stop one. So it was that Marissa was the first one to struggle bravely up the ladder, followed closely by Sirius Black. 

The Divination Tower was the polar opposite of the austere, almost utilitarian Astronomy Tower whose only beauty was found in the night skies that it was devoted to observing. How Professor Sinistra stood it on stormy nights Marissa didn't know, but then she was very business-like herself, a trait that had lended spice to the fanciful rumors about her late husband who had been the last Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to last more than two years. The Divination Tower Room resembled nothing so much as a crowded attic. True, it had more unbroken chairs per square feet than most attics and the tables were routinely cleared of what Galda insisted was not just junk to make a working space, but beyond the murals painted on every wall and the ceiling (which were no less that creepy as they were Tarot Cards that stared down at you ominously) the decorations of the Tower Room were haphazard at best. How Galda managed to find anything in the clutter was the only indicator of her psychic ability that she ever showed her classes. 

Marissa threw herself down into the most comfortable chair that she was allowed to sit classes in and Sirius took up residence in the one next to her. Galda stood in front of the class and rasped (as Sirius referred to her misty voice) that they would, in honor of the day, be reviewing love lines. Marissa smirked at Sirius. She couldn't wait to hear what Galda had to say about his "very divided" love line with a fascination that Marissa sometimes disrespectfully implied was her excuse for holding Sirius hand. This improper suggestion always horrified Sirius who usually prided himself on being a ladies man. 

However, her presumption wasn't precisely fair. Not considering that Sirius's love line _was_ rather odd. It kept splintering off and at one point seemed to all but end before picking up again after a long stretch of hand. It was certainly beyond the skill of a skeptic like Marissa to read. Galda was not so disabled, she believed her sham completely, "Always seeking, never finding, chasing down one love interest after another, each as unlikely as the next, all ending in disaster all too soon," she murmured mistily running her pinky finger along the numerous branch-offs of his love line. "But there is a lingering love that you have ignored, it is always there yet you never touch it. And by the time you recognize it, it will cause you nothing but pain, for she will be with another." Now her pinky had reached the open space. "She is with you in your sorrow and despair when you have no one, she is all that remains, for she brings nothing but pain. All good times are forgotten, all pleasant memories are lost in the agony of losing her. That is all your eyes will see for many long years. When you emerge from this trial, the love you reach out for will be for friends, for family, for a son but never for a lover. She will haunt you even then when your torment is over. Her memory will chase any other from your mind." Galda looked up at Sirius almost as if surprised to see the owner of such a hand listening to her. She looked at him with sympathy. 

Sirius for a moment looked almost - _serious_ \- then he smirked at her like his normal self. Galda patted him on the back encouragingly as if secretly aware that he was only putting a good face on his obvious pain at hearing (and she obviously assumed believing) such gruesome tidings for a dismal future. She turned hurried to to Marissa who winced at the coming reprisal. She had drawn on false life and love lines when they had studied palmistry intensively (for Gadla's class) last year, but she hadn't known to do it for today. Galda was going to realize that she had faked her classic lines when she glanced down at her hands. Indeed, Galda eyes did go wide slightly before she narrowed them again on the true lines. "My dear," she began in even mistier tones than before, "You did not have to fabricate lines to make them more interesting. Yours are unusual in themselves." Marissa raised her eyebrows at Sirius upon hearing this, amused that Galda could not fathom the idea of a student's hand lines revealing that they were going to live a long full life, settle down happily and marry after a few years dating, and be while not rich reasonably prosperous. Not in her class. 

"Indeed, your lines appear at first glance quite average," she said reflectively. "However, this pattern here, your love line diverging briefly into three, meeting again at this point, suggest that you will be forced to choose between three men. All will need you, all will love you, so do not choose based on whom you think needs you, search yourself to find the one who you love. Only he will make you happy. Not that you will have long." Galda moved to her life line, tracing it in a trice. "Fuller and deeper than I have seen in many years, but also short. It appears longer at first glance, but you can see that it is broken here. That is your memory line that winds so long." Galda's eyes were actually moist when she looked up at Marissa, "You will not be with us long." 

Marissa was silent a moment after this proclamation, "Well then, I best not waste any time, eh?" 

"Riss isn't going anywhere," Sirius said almost angrily. "I don't see a break in her life line. I continues almost to the other side of her hand. Clearly she's going to live to be three-hundred and thirty-six and you just try and tell me that it's a lie!" 

Galda only looked at him pityingly for a long moment before standing and leaving their table to join another, less cursed one. "Don't let her get to you, Sirius. And don't you ever let me catch you losing your joy in life as she suggests, either." 

"You command and I shall obey, General Fletcher!" Sirius said with a salute. He never understood why Marissa tensed up and stared into space for a long moment afterward. 

* * *

Lunch was an awkward affair with everyone literally waiting for the sky to start falling. When Marissa and Sirius finally made their way down from the North Tower and took their seats next to Lily and the Marauders who (minus Remus) had endured a hefty morning in Arithmancy, Lily greeted her best friend with "I hate you." Sirius blinked his surprise, but Marissa only plopped down beside her and smiled winningly.

"For telling him how to work that crane?" she guessed, trying to suppress her laughter. 

"Well spotted," she almost snapped. "And for making it chase me all the way to the Arithmancy room! And then it swooped down on me after class where it had been _waiting_ all period above the door frame where I couldn't see it! I've only just lost -" 

But at that moment, Lily's face contorted with fury as she saw the crane making its way after her across the Great Hall. "Can I get no peace!" she all but screamed, ducking when it approached her but unable to avoid it for long. "Here's an idea, Lils, crazy I know," Marissa said good-naturedly. "Why don't you just listen to the message so that it'll stop hounding you?" 

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you?" Lily asked, batting the crane away distractedly and swinging her head around to keep it in her sights. "You and Potter both." 

"Actually, this is far more amusing, I was speaking for your sake, Lils," Marissa laughed, taking some potatoes onto her plate. 

"I hate you." 

"So you've said," Marissa replied cheerfully. 

* * *

Head Boy and Girl had certain privileges. A free period worked into their Mondays and Fridays was one of them. Their Friday period was in the middle of the day, right after lunch so it was like having a lunch break three times as long. Except that they spent most of it in the Prefects Meeting Room planning and working on all the projects that they had to coordinate. Today, however, they were simply discussing Marissa's antics and their reception in the Great Hall. "My biggest worry is after the snowshower of confetti this morning and the wax cake-edible rose switch she pulled at lunch, no one's going to risk showing up to dinner!" Lizzie laughed. She cocked her head at her partner and said more softly, "You seemed to be in a much better mood this morning."

"It was the sight of those cocky Slytherins who are so proud of their appearance covered from head to toe in light pink," Gideon said almost sourly. 

Lizzie was surprised. Gideon usually resented inter-House politics, and she had always been the more prejudiced Head in the past, what with Gryffindor and Slytherin's constant rivalry. But Gideon had been distant and removed around her ever since the murder of his nephew and sister-in-law. At Prefect Meetings she always marvelled at how well he was handling it, at how well he was coping and going on with his life. But around just her, he was withdrawn. Of all the prefect pairs, only Remus and Marissa were really friends before taking up their badges. As such, even though they were among the newest with working together, they had the best sense of teamwork, and not just the business-like part of it. Oh sure, Annette Penola and Igor Karkaroff were dating, but that was a rather unbalanced relationship with Karkaroff dominating Annette in an almost frightening way. Marissa and Remus were naturals at working together. That was how Lizzie and Gideon had been the first term. Before the Dark Mark was found over his family's home. Sure, she had teased him with Muggle idioms, but that only proved how well they got on. It had come as a bit of a surprise to her, actually, that it worked out so well. Afterall, she had been quite well-fitted with Frank and used to his more jovial approach to leadership. Gideon had appeared austere and overly studious at first. But they complemented eachother, and though he was slow to make them he responded well to her jokes. 

It was many a Monday and Friday, when only they of all the seventh year had a break from their studies, that they spent talking companionably instead of planning out the numerous and daunting tasks that were set before them to conquer together. They had always managed to get through them with flying colors because they worked well together afterall. What was more, Lizzie liked Gideon. She enjoyed getting his approach on all the problems, and not just because he had a knack for understanding the people that she couldn't. But ever since Christmas break and the tragedy he had suffered then, Gideon hadn't wanted to talk to her at all beyond the words they absolutely had to exchange on the projects still in motion. Lizzie had halted most of them herself. Gideon wasn't up to his normal workload. Not after Christmas. 

She had thought that Valentine's Day was doing him as much good as it had Marissa after her brother had been taken away (all the prefects had been told what offense had earned Marissa the punishment of running every detention of the next two terms). Afterall, they were talking again. Then he said something very un-Gideon-like. What had happened to her steady, fair, dependable, trusting friend? Who had often chided her for not putting faith in her fellow prefects, for doubting a professor or another student's intentions? What had happened to her better half? 

"Since when do you have a problem with the Slytherins? Since when do you generalize? Since when do you stereotype the Houses?" Lizzie cried, her voice growing increasingly upset as she continued. Not upset because these were things she didn't do herself or even things that she usually disapproved of, in all truth. But these were not things that Gideon did. Not the Gideon she knew. And she desperately missed that Gideon. 

"Since when are you all high and mighty about Inter-House Politics?" Gideon returned angrily, standing up and moving to the window to get away from her. 

She followed him, making him face her. "Since when do I have to be around you? That's your job remember? Who's going to keep me in line if you turn into a bigot too?" 

"You're just a silly girl," he said angrily, looking right at her as he spoke this time. Lizzie was struck dumb, his words hurting more than she had ever expected. "Be happy I'm not making a scene a prefects meetings, but don't you bloody well expect me to speak well of those bastards in private! Those sodding bastards who - who k-k-" He couldn't get it out. He blinked back furiously to suppress the tears but they wouldn't be stopped, and several sobs forced their way up before he could beat them down again. 

"The Slytherins aren't all Death Eaters, Gideon," Lizzie said softly but firmly, looking at him seriously in the eye and saying words she had never thought to hear come flying out of her mouth, much less mean them with such fervor, "They're not all bad. You can't turn away from a whole group of people - " 

"Why the bloody hell not? Isn't that my right? I don't denounce them in public, I don't rail at them when they act the way they do, I don't wince when they speak to me, aren't I allowed to express my true feelings when I'm alone now? What the hell do you want of me, Walker?" he hadn't called her by her last name since their first month as Heads when they were still two prefects from different houses who hadn't had much interaction with eachother. It was firmer proof of his withdrawal from her than his angry words, and she found that she could not bear it. 

Tears were springing to her eyes as well, "You can do anything you want to the bloody Slytherins, Prewett! But stop blaming yourself for what happened!" she screamed, shocking him. She shocked herself too. She silenced both of them for a long moment where he stared down at her. "You can't blame yourself, and that's what this is, you can't fool me yet Gideon Prewett." She was crying now, but yelling too, "Think what ever you want, say whatever you want to the stinking bloody Slytherins, burn their Common Room to the ground for all I care, but stop this with Anna and Jake! It is not your fault that they died and you can't blame yourself!" 

"You don't get it do you? You're as stupid as everyone else! How can you not understand that it IS my bloody fault they died!" Gideon roared. 

"Death Eaters killed them, Gideon, so don't tell me it's your fault unless you've joined with that madman! And I know you haven't because he's out for your blood every time there's a holiday from school!" 

"DEATH EATERS KILLED THEM BECAUSE THEY COULDN'T GET TO ME!" Gideon roared over her, towering over her a full head taller. "Fabian wasn't there to protect his wife BECAUSE HE WAS TOO BUSY TRYING TO PROTECT ME! It is my BLOODY FAULT!" 

Then quite suddenly, he went from looking larger than life to looking very very small. He hunched over, his sobs overcoming him. "You didn't - you didn't see - " he choked between the sobs that tore at his throat so that he could hardly breathe. "You didn't see the look on Fabian's face when he - found - found them. Lying there. The guilt. Guilt. But it was _my_ fault that he wasn't there. Mine. Mine. Mine." Lizzie wasn't even sure at what point in his mantra of self-blame that he had come to be in her arms, her holding him as tightly as she could, feeling herself cry earnestly as well, crying for the boy in her arms who was bearing a man's guilt for something that he should not have had to endure. 

What could Lizzie say to Gideon now to change what had happened? How he felt? Could she ever erase the terrible guilt in his heart? Or the equally terrible hate? Could she before they destroyed him? Would she even have a chance to, or would Voldemort continue to hound him? Panic seized up her chest and she began to sob harder than before. But even so she quieted long before Gideon who cried himself out on her shoulder, clinging to her as tightly as she clutched at him. When he did quiet Gideon laid his head on her shoulder as if resting there to gather his strength again to face the world. For Lizzie there was no one else in the world at that moment but this boy and his sorrow. How long they stayed like that niether of them could guess. The grey sky had opened up and begun to snow lightly, as if the sky too were finally releasing the tears that it had held. It fluttered past the window, a thing of beauty in the midst of so much suffering. "Don't cry, Lizzie," Gideon whispered hoarsely, "Please don't cry. That's worse than all the rest. That I drug you into it." 

"I can't help it, not when I see you taking such terrible burdens on yourself," Lizzie whispered, not looking at him. "They deserve your tears, but not your guilt." 

They were silent again, afraid to loosen their hold on eachother even though niether was crying any longer. Eventually then did, just enough to look at eachother. something strange happened when their tear-stained eyes met, each expressing to the other the depth of their caring. The next thing that Lizzie knew Gideon's lips were on hers and she was kissing him back. It was soft and gentle, almost timid, unlike all the other kisses she had known with her boyfriends over the years. And this one swept through her, right to an untouched place in her heart. 

She did not even notice that fireworks were literally going off all around them and cherubs _were_ in fact singing until they broke the kiss a long moment later. When she saw she laughed out loud, running her hand lightly along Gideon's cheek in a gentle caress. 

At first Gideon smiled at her, then he suddenly stiffened, grabbing the hand and pushing it away, glaring at the fireworks display. He jerked away from her and all but ran out the door, leaving her standing alone. 

* * *

Sirius had gone off, boquet of roses in hand, to celebrate the holiday with Belle. Lily was still running from the crane and angry with Marissa anyway. James was pursuing Lily and the crane, seeming far too proud of himself for the whole situation and not wanting to miss a second of how it turned out. That left Marissa to track down where Remus and Peter had gone off to, looking like they both were quite happy to take the secret to their graves. That, of course, could not be permitted.

It took her almost an hour to find them, but find them she did. And she didn't even need their precious Marauder's Map to do it. What she saw upon entering the empty classroom that they had taken possession of nearly made her burst out laughing. It was a remarkable feat indeed for Marissa Fletcher. Standing almost three feet apart, arms barely touching, Peter was trying to teach Remus how to dance. However, after an hour's fruitless effort he had been reduced to cursing at the constant wrong steps that Remus took, somehow still managing to painfully land on his foot despite the distance between them. In foul language, Peter ordered him ten feet away as he shouted out steps for him to complete. "I don't think that's going to work, boys," Marissa said casually, leaning up against the doorframe as if she had been there all along. 

They both jumped sky high, shooting eachother mortified looks so that the laugh Marissa had been suppressing burst from her. "Just what are you trying to do exactly?" 

"We were, um..." "You see, we..." they both began and trailed off simultaneously. Marissa smiled at them, shaking her head at their discomfort. 

Finally, Remus said with an air of defeat, "Professor Perkins is making us learn ballroom dancing for Muggle Studies." His words were almost indistinguishable and mostly mumbles. "I blame that new girlfriend of his. But see, I'm not getting it. And, well, there's a test coming up...he's even threatening to make it our Exam! So I, well, Peter mentioned once that he knew some Muggle dances because of his mum..." 

"Drives Dad mad with her phonograph records, it's about the only non-magical thing in our house. Mum loves magic and most of the time I think she's dead jealous of Dad because she's not a witch, but she does love Muggle music and dances and since Dad is too much of a pureblood to ever enjoy them," Peter stumbled through his rushed explanation, "I'm sorta her partner." 

"Don't say that like you're ashamed of it, boys!" Marissa laughed, coming fully into the room. "But who ever heard of learning to dance without music?" she asked, waving her wand vaguelly at the ceiling and causing a chorus of slow, instrumental music to fill the room. Peter looked down at the ground, his face reddening. 

"I think my help is desperately needed here," Marissa said, walking up to the two boys. 

"Riss, I know you're Muggle-born," Remus began, "But these aren't the kind of dances that every Muggle knows. I'm not talking modern dances here I'm talking - " 

"What? The fox trot? Waltzes? The Two-Step? Malaguenas? Tango? Sarabandes? Gavottes? Courtandes? Allemandes? Pavanes?" Marissa replied with a raised eyebrow. 

"How do you - " Remus began. 

"Ah, you've stumbled onto the fact that I'm a Muggle and the wise conclusion that that does not necessarily mean I dance well," Marissa ceded with a smile. "But luckily for you, I, as well as being a Muggle, am a debutante." With this she struck what Remus thought a highly ridiculous pose, one arm vertical above her head the other horizontal across her stomache, snapping her fingers simultaneously. "So let's get started, eh? What do you need to learn?" 

"Almost everything you just said," Remus said with a laugh of renewed enthusiasm for the task ahead of them. 

"Whew," Marissa cried. "We have our work cut out for us, Peter." It was the first time that she had addressed him individually since he kissed her. She had been just what he had anticipated, kind but slightly distant. She was waiting for him to give her some sign that they were okay, that they could go back to being friends. Peter wasn't so sure that they could. 

Peter had rather hoped that she would want to demonstrate some of the dances with him, but instead she walked right up to Remus and positioned his left hand on her back. She placed her left hand on his shoulder and took his right hand in hers. "I suggest we start with the waltz," she said looking up at him. Peter thought he caught a look of surprise in her eyes for a moment, but her voice did not betray it. Remus looked similiarly surprised by something and looked at Marissa curiously for a moment. Then the moment passed for him as well. They probably forgot that it occured, but Peter remembered. Peter doubted he would ever forget that look in Marissa Fletcher's eye, not love certainly but an interest that could lead to it. Maybe he was just being overly jealous. He certainly was, jealous that is. The only question was was it clouding his vision? 

"Um, Riss, I don't know the dance," Remus said uncertainly when the moment had passed. 

"Before you can learn the steps, you have to learn how to lead, and before you can learn how to lead, you have to learn how to move," Marissa explained, pulling him forward enough to get him moving. Remus felt quite stupid, just walking around trying not to step on Marissa's feet as he did so. Marissa seemed to sense this and laughed, directing him to go in a circle, a manuvuer that Peter had made seem near to impossible when he was explaining the steps. "Just think about moving in the same direction that I am, or rather moving together. That's the essence of couples dancing, move with the same mind as your partner. Usually that doesn't work, so the man leads. Whenever you feel comfortable, you take over. Your left hand on my back will tell me where you want me go." 

"But I don't know how to -" 

"That's why we're learning. See if you can take over the lead now," Marissa assured him. 

"Where do I go?" Remus asked uncertainly. 

"Oh honestly! No one's going to tell you exactly what you can and cannot do out here, Remus," Marissa laughed. "I know the steps may seem like that, but it's really up to you. Your choice. All you need is the confidence to not _worry_ about it so much," she said pointedly. "That's why we're doing this first. How can you learn to dance if you're constantly fussing about the steps? They say bad dancers have two left feet, but usually what it is is that they're overthinking it." 

"And how do we counter that?" Remus asked, not sounding quite so strained as before. 

"You learn how to move on the dancefloor, and once that feels natural, the steps come second-nature," Marissa answered with a smile. "That's the way to teach unless you've been brought up to the steps from a very young age." 

"Like you?" Remus asked with a hint of merriment in his eyes. 

"My first cotillion," she whispered conspiratorily, "was when I was six." 

They both laughed. "Truly?" 

"I live in one of those unfortunate fashionable neighborhoods," Marissa replied, "You know the ones where everybody is in everyone else's business, the office kind and the personal? They think I'm off at some exclusive finishing school and, to keep up the myth, I have to go through all my debutante torture sessions every summer. I'm actually coming out in society this summer. Can you imagine? A witch coming out in Muggle society? With the white gown, escort, and all the rest of the nightmare of frills?" 

Remus shrugged, "Sounds almost as excruciating as spending an hour in the Slytherin Common Room," he said cheekily. 

"Not that you would know, eh?" Marissa replied shrewdly. Again Remus laughed. "My, my, just what are you boys getting up to down there?" Remus shook his head secretively. "Will you tell me, Peter?" she asked over her shoulder. 

But Peter wasn't there. "Peter?" she called, breaking away from Remus and turning slowly to take in the whole room. There was no doubt about it, Peter was not in it. "We weren't excluding him from out conversation, were we?" she asked worriedly, turning to Remus. 

"Not that I was aware of, but think about what you just said," Remus answered soberly. " _Our_ conversation, you called it. I guess that's your answer, isn't it? It's not like we meant to though." 

"I don't think anyone ever does," Marissa sighed. "But I fear it happens to him quite a lot anyway." 

* * *

Peter had fully intended to give them the cold shoulder for at least the rest of the day, but Remus and Marissa were so apologetic at dinner that he couldn't keep it up. They seemed so sincere when they spoke of their dismay at finding him not in the room as well as their concern for his feelings. _But didn't they realize that that almost stung more than anything?_ Peter thought to himself as he warmed up his voice for the Special Presentation that night. _That they had forgotten about him completely?_ And they weren't fully repentant either, because they had made plans to meet next without him. Sure, they entreated him to join them, but it had more the air of one throwing a dog the scraps. And Peter was tired of getting nothing but the scraps. So he begged off, telling them that he was quite glad of an excuse to be quit of the project and that he had only agreed under extreme pleading in the first place. Eventually even Riss gave up.

Peter sighed. All the rest of his friends were happy and would expect him to be as well. Even Lily. James had surprisingly taken pity on her and removed the charm from the paper crane that had chased her all day when he saw that she was near tears at dinner (Marissa had demanded to know how he had cracked her encantation, but he had only smirked at her in answer). Lily had been almost kind to him as a result afterward though she still shot Marissa the occassional dirty look. She hadn't been able to talk to Dennis in peace all day because of James Potter's ruddy bird following her around. 

Peter tried to concentrate on the show that Marissa worked so hard to arrange. He even tried to tell himself that that was why she had been less than her usual considerate self today, she had so much work to concentrate on. It might even be true, but it didn't work for long. Peter sighed and started to make his way backstage. 

"Not so fast, buddy," Amos Diggory, the sixth year Hufflepuff prefect who Marissa had convinced to keep people from wondering backstage, said putting out a hand to check his progress. "Where do you think you're going?" 

"Backstage," Peter said as if speaking to a dunce. 

"I don't think so pal, you can see your friends once the show is over. I have my orders, performers and crew only. No well-wishers," Amos said adamantly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"But-but-but I'm in the show!" Peter cried, trying to move past him but stopped again. 

"Nice try, buddy, but I can't let you - " 

"Amos! What are you doing?" Marissa's alarmed voice cried from behind them. 

"Following orders, Fletcher. You said no one but performers and crew," Amos said as he self-righteously thumped his chest. 

"He _is_ a performer, Amos!" Marissa cried in exasperation, taking Peter by the arm and pulling him past the guard. "Don't stop any more of my singers, all right?" she sent back to him in an almost stern voice. 

"Sorry, Fletcher!" Diggory shouted after them. 

_'Sorry, Fletcher.' Not 'sorry Pettigrew.' Not 'sorry I didn't think you were good enough to be in the performance.'_ Peter hadn't thought it was possible to be in a fouler mood than he was before. Marissa, of course, had to sense this. Well she could save her worry now, it might have been useful before she looked at his friend that way in front of him after he had kissed her over Christmas. Now she could save it. "I'm sorry about that, Peter, it's my fault. I thought that you were already back here, it didn't occur to me when you said you were going to warm up that you meant away from here. I told Amos that all my performers were already backstage." 

"Oh," was all that Peter felt up to saying at the moment. 

Marissa sighed but moved on, busy with last minute preparations. Was that all he would ever be to her? A distraction? She may call him her friend, but ever since he kissed her everything had changed, no matter how she chose to deny it. They couldn't be friends anymore, not really. Even if she got over acting odd around him eventually, Peter would never forget. 

Peter almost glared at Frank Longbottom and Alice Watterby who were standing close together, ostentaciously going over the duet they were going to perform. Alice was looking up at Frank every other glance, her hands unusually fidgety. Frank was looking down at Alice during the intervals she was staring at the parchment, his voice droning on about something Peter was quite sure that Alice wasn't hearing. He nearly groaned aloud. Valentine's Day was a wretched holiday. Gideon Prewett seemed to be of the same opinion, continually waving Lizzie Walker away and evading her quite rudely. Peter tried not to be pleased at the hurt look on her face, but misery loved company. And Peter currently felt quite miserable. 

The next thing that he knew, Marissa was bounding out of the wings and onto the stage they had erected and moved into the Great Hall after dinner. Peter peeked out to find what was surely almost the entire school watching. Everyone was standing close to the stage and looking both apprehensive and excited. It wasn't every day that they had a live concert, even if it was their prefects. "Welcome to the first annual Valentine's Day concert!" Marissa cried, her wand pointed at her throat to serve as a kind of microphone. Everyone cheered. "The prefects have prepared five musical numbers for you, all of which will be accompanied by Sirius Black on the piano," she waved at Sirius who stood to accept his applause. When he finally sat back down at the keyboard, Marissa continued, "May I introduce our first performer, singing Aretha Franklin's 'Natural Woman', your Head Girl Liiiizzzie Walker!" 

Even as Marissa turned to move off the stage, the first layer of curtains began to fold back and Lizzie was revealed standing in the middle of the stage. Sirius had already struck the opening chords. The moment the curtains were fully back Lizzie began to sing in a surprisingly deep, soulful voice, "Lookin' out on the morning rain..." 

There was no doubt about it that Lizzie was quite a performer, dancing just enough to be interesting without distracting from the song. "I used to feel so uninspired...And when I knew I had to face another day...Lord it made me feel so tired." Peter could have sworn he saw her steal a glance at Gideon backstage who was up next. He looked away from her. 

"Before the day I met you   
Life was so unkind.   
You're the key to my peace of mind   
Cause you make me feel   
You make me feel   
You make me feel like a natural woman."

Lizzie was _definitely_ looking at Gideon Prewett when she sang the second verse, "I didn't know just what was wrong with me...Till your kiss helped me name it."

However, she was all for the crowd by the time she sang the final phrase and Sirius finished the piece with a flourish. Everyone exploded into cheers, surprised by the ability of their Head Girl. Lizzie blushed at the applause as the curtain slid shut to hide her. 

Marissa bounced back onto the stage just as the applause was beginning to die down. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our Head Boy Gideon Prewett singing 'The Way You Look Tonight.'" 

Gideon was not the same caliber performer that Lizzie was, hardly dancing at all, but the voice that poured forth was a rich, deep tone that graced the Frank Sinatra tune very well. Peter was much mistaken if he didn't see several of the girls swooning as the warm, distinct baritone sang the romantic lyrics. 

"Someday, when I'm awfully low,   
And the world is cold,   
I will feel aglow just thinking of you...   
And the way you look tonight."

One thing was for sure, Lizzie was watching him with a distinct sadness in her eyes, her gaze worried and almost proprietary.

"Lovely...never, ever change.   
Keep that breathless charm.   
Won't you please arrange it?   
Cause I love you...just the way you look tonight."

Peter saw that Gideon, like Lizzie, was shooting looks at his fellow Head from the stage and likewise looked far sadder than his upbeat song warranted.

Mm, mm, mm, mm,   
Just the way you look to-night.

Sirius finished with a flourish, but Gideon looked unwilling to even bow. He looked far more depressed than usual, even compared to his first week back after Christmas. Peter wondered briefly if he was being petty to ascribe so much importance to his own problems which weren't near what Gideon had to bear. Was Lizzie helping him with that? Or had she been overly meddlesom? Now _that_ Peter could understand. 

The next number was what would prove to be interesting. "Frank and Alice Longbottom singing 'I Got You Babe'!" Peter smirked as he ducked behind the final curtain to peer at Lily and James who were standing beside eachother. James was looking at Lily in an unguarded moment where she was looking nervously down at her feet, and Peter had the fleeting thought that no one would ever love him like that. As the duet filled the hall, Peter glanced back and forth between Alice and Frank who were now visible to the audience and Lily and James who were not. Frank and Alice seemed intensely affected by their duet, holding hands not merely out of appearances, looking mostly at each other. Lily and James were standing several feet apart, but watching each other intently all the same. Alice's face had always been more open than Lily's, but now it was far more overwhelmingly so as Lily's expression was closed and guarded even as she appeared unable to tear her eyes away from James Potter's. Frank was actually looking less expressive than James, but that wasn't saying terribly much though James was not looking quite so unguarded as he had when Lily was looking away from him. 

"And when I'm sad, you're a clown and if I get scared, you're always around."

The sweet soprano voice roise almost wistfully. Peter found himself envying both couples, though he knew that James would likely be back to square one with Lily once the song was over.

"Then put your little hand in mine there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb."

It didn't seem James would trade this moment for anything even so. Nor Frank for all his many claims that he didn't have a thing for Alice Watterby. He didn't seem to be so insistent upon that point at the moment.

"I got you to kiss goodnight."

It was quite possible that her voice broke on that phrase.

"I got you to hold me tight."   
"I got you, I won't let go."   
"I go you to love me so."   


Peter sighed almost against his will as they began to wind down the song, repeating the title of the song in unison several times before Sirius's piano playing trailed off.

Alice and Frank didn't seem to have noticed that the curtain hadn't closed fully yet when he leaned down to kiss her. That didn't surprise Peter. Nor did the fact that Lily had blinked and promptly broken the spell, striding angrily away from James who still appeared fixed in place. He was surprised, however, to see that fireworks were exploding all around Alice and Frank and that some high-pitched music was sounding all around them. Peter groaned aloud this time and took his place behind the curtain that wouldn't open. Yes, that was his proper place. 

* * *

When Frank and Alice had pulled themselves off the stage, but not fully out of eachother's arms, Lizzie confronted Marissa. "You're the one! I knew it! You charmed everyone in this school so that if they kissed..." Lizzie broke off, shaking her head at her friend, her hair flopping about her face.

Marissa's smile grew ten times as wide, "Oh Lizzie!" she cried, "Who did you kiss?" She sounded as gleeful as a six year old at her birthday party. "Who?" 

Lizzie's expression went from amused incredulity to serious so fast that Marissa's grin slid off her face. "Oh, Lizzie, what happened?" she all but whispered, both of them ignoring the swoon that went up when Lockhart emerged onto the stage and began to sing a very appropriate song for him ("C'est Moi!"). 

Lizzie sighed. "We came down from the cloud and back into reality, I suppose," she murmured. "And all the problems he faced before were still here." 

"I guess I didn't help you maintain your dreamy state with my antics," Marissa said sounding uncharacteristically apologetic. 

"No," Lizzie said honestly. "But it would have happened anyway, I think. But if you want to make it up to me, I think you're just the girl for the job." 

"What job?" Marissa asked speculatively. Lizzie laughed, Marissa had never been able to resist a Cheering Mission. 

"Snapping Gideon Prewett out of his self-recriminations and melancholy," Lizzie said with a small smile. "So that maybe he'll risk being happy again." 

"I'll just about do it," Marissa said with a serious nod of her head. 

"Then I quite forgive you for prematurely ending the moment," Lizzie said judiciously. "Particularly if you can help me get him into some others." 

"Sounds like a challenge," Marissa said in a voice that made it quite clear that she would not be detered by such a thing. 

"Your first assignment will be to get him to start talking to me again," Lizzie said, looking up to see that Lockhart had finished the self-important song of Lancelot in the musical _Camelot_ and was bowing elaborately to the crowd which appeared torn between cheering and jeering (not that Guilderoy could tell the difference). Lizzie strode out onto the stage and they immediately quieted. "For our final act, I present to you, the mastermind behind all the mayhem this Valentine's Day....Marissa Fletcher!" 

The curtain parted and Sirius struck up the tune. After a moment, Marissa opened her mouth and out came...Gideon's voice? 

"Fly me to the moon   
Let me sing among the stars   
Let me see what spring is like   
On Jupiter and Mars   
In other words, hold me hand   
In other words, darling kiss me"

One thing was clear, it was not Marissa Fletcher's natural singing voice. But before anyone could get overly concerned about his issue, the solution revealed itself.

The second curtain parted and out came Remus who was clearly singing the part that Marissa was miming, 

"Fill my heart with song   
Let me sing for ever more   
You are all I long for   
All I worship and adore   
In other words, please be true"

He and Marissa were now side by side, her clearly laughing along with everyone else in the audience at how they had been tricked.

"In other words, I love you."

Remus and Marissa both stayed there bowing and laughing profusely for a moment before Sirius promptly struck up another, less bouncy tune. Remus's rich voice, which everyone now realized he must have been singing for Gideon as well sang out,

"Years may come, years may go   
This I know, will e'er be so:   
The reason to live is only to love   
A goddess on earth and a God above."

Then Lizzie and Belle stepped onto the stage, Belle singing in what everyone had thought was Lizzie's voice,

"If ever I would leave you   
It wouldn't be in summer.   
Seeing you in summer, I never would go.   


And then Gideon graced the stage as Remus took over again,

"Your hair streaked with sunlight...   
Your lips red as flame.   
Your face with a lustre   
That puts gold to shame."

Then the largest group of all, Frank and Alice with Lily and James. James singing clearly,

"But if I'd ever leave you   
It couldn't be in autumn   
How I'd leave in autumn, I never would know.   
I've seen how you sparkle   
When fall hits the air   
I know you in autumn, and I must be there."

Then Lily, pointedly not looking at James as she stood with Alice,

"And could I leave you running merrily through the snow?   
Or on a wintry evening when you catch the fire's glow?   
If ever I would leave you,   
How could it be in springtime,   
Knowing how in spring I'm bewitched by you so?"

And finally Guilderoy Lockhart and Peter Pettigrew, Peter belting,

"Oh no, not in spring time, summer, winter or fall....   
No, never could I leave you...at...all..."

Then all of them together repeated the last two lines,

"Oh no, not in spring time, summer winter or fall.....   
No, never could I leave you....at....all...."

"Happy Valentine's Day everybody!" Marissa shouted as the curtains closed on them. Marissa immediately hugged Remus, who was nearest. "We did it, guys! We tricked the whole school and they loved it!"

"It's good to have you back, Riss," Remus said with a grin. 


	7. Politics

**Chapter Seven  
Politics**

_Well, that's certainly interesting,_ the hat murmured in his ear. 

The boy was nervous, and when he was nervous he sneered at whatever was frightening him. "Like it takes a lot to interest you. You're awfully dull, even for a hat." 

_And I suppose your father has better ones? Is that the next line you're planning to say… No… I see not. Cleverer than most then, that's a little more original than the rest of the heads I've been sitting on all night._

"What is?" 

_What you were about to say._

"But I hadn't thought of it yet." 

_Maybe not so clever. You underestimate things you don't understand. Here's a lesson for you boy -_

"I don't need lessons from a hat. You can't even figure out which house I belong in. Fine, I'll spell it out for you. Slytherin. I'm not getting off this stool if you say anything else. I'll just sit here until you take it back." 

_Yes, and you're just the sort for it too, if you won't listen to a being who's been witness to the wisdom of every genius ever to enter Hogwarts. I'll tell you anyway, as you may not always be so concerned only with what is right in front of your face. Not all power is of your nature, and not all knowledge is what you've been exposed to. There are other routes to greatness than the one that you have chosen._

"I'm not going to change who I am for a stupid hat." 

_By the staff of Merlin! I don't want you to, boy. I just want you to realize that their are other paths and others who will take those paths. Don't dismiss them because they do not follow your path. Or are you too full of yourself to learn that much?_

"Since you seem to find it so distasteful to talk to me and I'm not leaving until you say Slytherin, why don't you just bloody well say - " 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

* * *

Professor Lucille Delacour was the second smallest teacher after Professor Flitwick. Her long brown tresses the color of mahogany curled down her back until, rumor had it, she could sit on it. And not one strand of it was ever out of place. Her eyes were an emerald green that sparkled with her considerable intelligence and spunk. She displayed both to her classes at all times. 

She had a brother who was still in France and thought her daft for coming to England, everyone knew this because every time she got sick of the rain or the Ministry for Magic she remarked that she should have listened to him. It was James and Sirius, of course, who asked her (repeatedly) why she hadn't. 

Professor Delacour, to everyone's immense surprise, had answered one day out of the blue. Even she looked surprised that the words she was muttering under her breath were audible to the rest of the class. Lily later claimed that she had intended to cast the charm only to make it audible to them. Marissa and the Marauders later wondered why they had given Lily that particular job. 

"I woold go anzeewhere to escape that leetle devil that has me brother by the throat, that blonde beetch 'oo I fully believe eez a veela like the roomers say," she muttered bitterly, completely unaware that the entire class could hear her mumblings. She had looked perfectly horrified when she did realize. 

Not that the class liked her any less for what they thought of as the Outburst. The Potionmaster from France had never been a professor in need of color (like Professor Sinistra whose blandness invited stories that may or may not be true about her husband's gift of the Day Star Room to her). No, the petite (anywhere else she may have been called "tiny" but at Hogwarts that was reserved for Professor Flitwick) Professor Delacour was made interesting by virtue of having never attended Hogwarts before she took the position in the dungeons of the great castle. Her fabled first year (which none of the students left at Hogwarts had actually witnessed) of grand complaints and endless tirades against the dungeons had led to Dumbledore fashioning large windows with a gorgeous view of a garden swathed in light to be placed in her office, despite the fact that it was underground. The tiny dial that allowed her to control the weather had put an end to her complaints and reconciled her to Hogwarts Castle at last until she, in later years, claimed to prefer it to Beauxbatons. No one was quite sure if they believed her.

After all, she started all her lectures on the Gryffindor/Slytherin spats she had to witness with a proclamation that they had never had these kinds of inter-House problems at Beauxbatons. 

Like the one she gave at the beginning of class on their first class in March. Double Potions was their first class on Tuesday. It was a wonderful way to start the day, with the Slytherins, they all agreed. Not that they escaped seeing the Slytherins in class on any day but Friday. 

The lecture that Professor Delacour visited on them that day was unique only in that it occurred at the beginning of class before they had even had a chance to squabble at each other across the dungeon. "It 'as occurred to me that the Inter-'Ouse rivalries between Slytherin and Gryffindor will never 'epair theemselves on their own. But do not deespair, fo' I have a plan. Starting today we will 'ave assigned partners in all potions experiments. I 'ave assigned the partners as such. . ." 

Not one Gryffindor was paired with a member of their own house. Lily Evans drew Annette Penola; Sirius, Jessica Havisham; Peter, Augustus Trabb; James, Igor Karkaroff. But Marissa drew the ultimate short straw. Severus Snape. As there were more Slytherins, some of them were lucky. Professor Delacour warned them that she would be switching the partners routinely. No one was particularly sorry to hear that. 

Professor Delacour was not a teacher blessed with the gift of keeping a class silent with minimal effort, but that day you could have heard a pin drop. 

Marissa's spirits had dropped again once her Valentine's Day mission was behind her and she had nothing to distract herself with. Still, they were significantly improved from the week before Valentine's Day. The most obvious sign of this was that she was allowing her friends to cheer her up now. Still, Lily worried that two hours spent in Severus Snape's exclusive company was not the best way to mend her fragile spirits. Particularly when she noticed that they were talking. Marissa may be the only Gryffindor who could truthfully say that she had never gotten into a fight with a Slytherin, even a verbal exchange of insults, possibly in the entire history of Hogwarts, but with Severus Snape Lily highly doubted that the conversation could be very pleasant. Not even the other Slytherins liked him. 

Despite Lily's dire reflections, Snape and Marissa's conversation was limited to "I'll slice the shrivelfigs" and "Would you please pass the toads you de-horned? It's time to add them." If the Slytherin's comments were tinged with, "Do you think you're capable of..." and "If it's not too difficult for you..." then Marissa handled it all in stride the way her fellow Gryffindors never would have. 

What was truly dangerous was a line of questioning that occurred as it neared time to place the final ingredients in the cauldron, "I think I should tend the cauldron, yes? I hear you burned that little brat of yours trying to cook. That's how you were found out, yes?" 

Marissa's mouth fell open at the unprovoked attack, moving soundlessly as she stared at Snape. "What do you know, the Gryffindor golden girl is as stupid as I suspected," he sneered at her shocked silence. "Then again, you are clever about procuring sympathy." 

Marissa just stared at him, "What do you mean by that?" the tightness in her voice revealed her anger. Sirius and Remus who were working nearby and subtly keeping an eye on her and the slimy git jerked their heads up at the tone of her voice. 

If Snape noticed, it only egged him on to greater heights. He could handle Black out of class, and don't even make him laugh mentioning Lupin. And it wasn't as if Saint Fletcher was going to do anything about it. Besides, he was enjoying the reaction that his taunts were (at last after five and a half years) getting out of her. "Oh, it's just that you seem to drop into your mourning routine only when the attention has fallen off you somewhat. So tell me, you miss the limelight so much that you have to reinvent your grief for a mother who died nine years ago?" 

Marissa gasped and dropped her knife with a clatter as she backed away. It was a good thing too, because the next second, Sirius Black had launched himself at the Slytherin and was lifting him up by his collar, tall enough that the Slytherin's toes were barely touching the ground. Remus had moved half a second later, but not to separate Sirius from the slimeball like had often been his role, but to place a comforting hand on Marissa's shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, as if he had startled her out of inner reflections. He shook his head to indicate that no one (probably not even Snape) believed his taunts. She tried to smile weakly in thanks. 

Meanwhile, Sirius still had Snape by the throat and was shouting at him to apologize. A ring was beginning to form around them when the petite brunette burst through it looking daggers at all of them and forced the two apart almost effortlessly. No one had anticipated Professor Delacour being so strong. "I theenk that we 'ave 'ad enough Inter-'Ouse Politics for today," she said as she glared back and forth between them. "Class dismeessed." 

Before she could stop herself, Lily cried in surprise, "But professor, we haven't finished the potions yet, and you said it'd be on O.W.-" 

"I said, class dismeessed, Mees Evans," Professor Delacour said pointedly. "Everyone but Mr. Black is free to leave. You will stay to deescuss your detention." 

Everyone gathered up their books and hastily exited the room. The moment they were up the stairs, the other three Marauders exploded into loud complaints about Sirius's sentence. "The things Snape said to Marissa!" "Like the slimy git didn't deserve it!" "You know Snivellus was trying to fight back, and because of the fact that he can't Sirius is the one who gets punished!" 

"Relax, mates, it's just a detention," Sirius said with a self-satisfied not remotely penitent smirk on his face. "It was worth it, believe me. Can you imagine anyone sinking so low to insult her mother?" 

"You shouldn't have hit him, Sirius," Marissa said, breaking past them and running up the steps. Lily ran after her, glaring back at the boys for all the world as if they were the ones who had caused Marissa's distress. 

* * *

Remus was almost apprehensive when he entered the Charms classroom after dinner and saw Marissa sitting and staring out the window waiting for him. Her mood was so fragile these days, and Snape's well-aimed insults had shattered it apparently. She didn't notice that he was in the room until he said awkwardly, "So...this morning..," why was it suddenly so hard to string a coherent sentence together? They had talked (once) about her mother and he hadn't been this tongue-tied. Now he couldn't discuss some petty insults that a slimy git of a Slytherin had said to her. 

"I probably shouldn't have snapped at Sirius, he was just defending me," Marissa said before sighing and turning to face him. There was a slight frown on her face that looked monstrously out of place. 

"He's not upset with you, just thinks you're too soft on Snivellus," Remus said with a weak smile. 

"That's a horrible insult with you Marauders!" Marissa cried with a laugh in her voice. Remus suppressed a sigh of relief at the sound of it. "Anyway, let's see, are we about due to start the tango?" 

She had spent only their first lesson teaching him how to move and now they spent two nights a week learning and practicing countless dance steps. She insisted that he not "fall into a rut" as she called it. Remus wasn't entirely sure what the reference was (when he asked she said something about wheels on carts getting stuck in roads, but he had stopped trying to understand at "It's a Muggle thing from when mules had to pull carts...") but what it meant to him was that she wouldn't let him just memorize a series of steps. She made him improvise. 

"Didn't you say we'd have to learn pavanes first? Something about the footwork - " 

"Oh yes, yes," she remembered. "Very well," she waved her wand and stately orchestra music filled the room. Once they were in position, she began to describe the steps to him, correcting him slightly as they went. By the end of thirty minutes, she they had gone over all of the standard steps in the dance and Marissa had instructed him to lead her around the room using them. After several minutes of concentration, he was comfortable enough with this that they could talk. 

"So when did you first learn dancing? It's like second nature to you," Remus said. He changed directions abruptly, but she followed him without a falter. He smiled down at her when she opened her mouth to protest, an eyebrow raised to remind her of the flawless maneuver she had just executed. 

"Oh all right, I'll tell you," she conceded. "My mother started teaching me when I was five, in preparation for my first cotillion at six." 

"Five years old," Remus marveled, shaking his head. "Somehow I expected your mother to, I don't know, break the mold of your neighborhood in that department." 

"Me too, truthfully," Marissa replied thoughtfully. "Though it makes more sense now that I know she's a witch, a lot of things do for that matter. But this: how was she to know that not all Muggle society was like that? That most would find it extreme? And she was embracing Muggle society whole-heartedly after all. Throwing children together from about the age of twelve on, a hundred old women playing matchmaker and cackling behind their hands, bureaucrats with their political wives, businessmen dangling the marriages of their daughters and sons for mergers and business dealings..." 

"And it might not have seemed so alien to her," Remus said with a long sigh, "Not if she was a pureblood." 

"Don't tell me!" Marissa cried, looking at him in surprise. 

"Substitute the dancing for Quodpot, crochet and polo for Quidditch, and age twelve for age six and you about have it," Remus said, scowling down at the floor at the stiff memories of his starched and ironed childhood, his parents twice as desperate as the rest to fulfill every protocol and be dubbed normal by the insane club. 

"Age six?" Marissa cried in surprise and alarm. "That's literally cradle-robbing!" 

"That's why purebloods don't marry Muggleborns," Remus sighed again. Marissa stiffened in his arms, looking up at with an inscrutable expression on her face that was very close to rebuke. "Oh, don't get me wrong, some of them are fiercely prejudiced. But most families aren't anymore, even some of the Slytherin-based ones. The real reason that purebloods don't marry anything but other purebloods or half-bloods is that they're all paired up in the parents' minds by the age of eight at the latest, long before the Muggle-borns get their Hogwarts letters and join the wizarding world. They're three years too late to be the parents' choice." 

"I thought that arranged marriages expired years ago! Didn't Binns say once in class that the Ministry repealed the legitimacy of it?" Marissa said curiously. 

"Oh yes, but you'll know whom they've chosen for you because her parents as well as yours will be throwing you at her constantly," Remus explained. "And if you're too thick to get it through your skull, most of them will tell you almost bluntly. And if you don't care for that girl...there's snubbing, tears, and if you and they are both really determined..." 

"Disinheritance," Marissa finished. 

Remus looked down in slight surprise, "Yes, how did you - " 

"You think that Muggles haven't found that particular way around the end of legal protection of the antiquated practice?" Marissa looked at him with a half-hearted smile on her face. She let out a long sigh, "Is there no where safe for the debutante?" 

"Well, there's Hogwarts," Remus replied with a warm smile. "Beauxbatons is infested with the game and I don't even want to think about it at Durmstrang. Professor Delacour must have been disinherited or nearly to have remained single this long. But Hogwarts is like a haven. Dumbledore doesn't let anyone, not even the parents, put pressure on us here. That's why Sirius dates so determinedly." 

"What?" Marissa said, truly surprised. 

"What, did you think he just couldn't settle down? It's a kind of defiance of his parents, like most things that he does," Remus replied. "Even his happy demeanor I sometimes think is a way of thumbing his nose at them." 

"And would James have any of that? Or is it just a coincide that Lily's a Muggleborn?" Marissa asked pointedly. 

"James's case is very different," Remus replied. "He has good parents." 

"Don't you, Remus?" Marissa asked, peering up at him solicitously. 

"I love my parents, Riss, don't get me wrong," Remus assured her. "But they love the game of it. Obsessed is what they are." 

"Have your future wife all picked out?" 

"No. They don't." 

"How can you be so sure? Didn't you just say that Hogwarts was a safe zone? Maybe they're waiting for you to leave it," now she was teasing him. 

"Believe me they don't." 

* * *

"Gideon, I hope you know you can't ignore me forever." 

"I can try." 

"Yes, I'm aware of that. You're doing a very good job of it. You're being an idiot about it too. Why won't you at least talk to me?" 

"We have nothing to say." 

"Bullshit." 

"Yes, I guess I did speak incorrectly. You have plenty to say, obviously. I, however, have nothing to say to you." 

"So, what then? You just want to pretend it didn't happen?" 

"Pretend what didn't happen?" 

"Oh that's real mature, Gideon. Real mature." 

"Listen, Walker, I don't have time for this so either grow up and leave me alone or get it through your head that you and what happened both mean absolutely nothing to me, understand?" Gideon yelled at her walking away faster than she could follow him. Lizzie didn't attempt it, nor did she say anything else. She hadn't really expected it to be that simple. That's why she had a back-up plan for this encounter. 

"Gideon!" a voice cried loudly the moment he rounded the corner. 

"Hello, Marissa," Gideon said tiredly but cordially. "What is it with blondes today and tracking me down in the corridors?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Gideon," Marissa lied, "But I wanted to ask you something. It's about Valentine's Day..." Gideon waited semi-patiently for her to explain. "Well, ever since then you've been...more distant with me than usual and...I was wondering...did you think I was too, I don't know, overenthusiastic or something? Are you upset or - " 

"Are you crazy, Fletcher?" Gideon cut her off. "I wanted you to take the job away from Lockhart. And wasn't I in your Special Presentation?" 

"Yes, but...did you think that I went overboard just like we were all afraid that Lockhart would do?" Marissa pressed. 

"Marissa...yes, you sent a deluge of confetti down on us but at least you waited until we finished eating and yes, you had little 'cupids' delivering messages all day that got on some people's nerves, but at least they weren't disgruntled dwarfs who don't appreciate being stuffed into pink wings and carrying harps. And you made a joke out of serenading the school," Gideon outlined. "So yes, you went over the top, but you did it tastefully. So yes, I'm glad you took over Valentine's Day and no, I'm not upset with you. In case you haven't noticed, I've been short with just about everyone. Sorry about that." 

"I have noticed," Marissa said with a slight smile. "But...what about charming everyone so that if they kissed fireworks and cherubs would fly all around them?" 

Gideon actually stopped his furiously paced walk. He turned to look her full in the face, "That was you?" he cried before he could realize that this would be a mistake. 

"Gideon Prewett!" Marissa cried as if in surprised delight at discovering at secret. 

Gideon's eyes went from incredulous to closed in a fraction of a second and he turned briskly and walked away even faster than before. 

Marissa was almost jogging to keep up. "Now, is that fair? You have to at least tell me who now!" 

Gideon stopped so quickly that Marissa nearly ran into him. His eyes were flashing when they met hers. "Don't you think you've done enough, Fletcher?" he said angrily. "Leave it alone." And with that, he walked away from her as well, hoping fervently that she didn't talk to Lizzie. 

* * *

But even Gideon Prewett's anger could not compare to that of James Potter when he saw Lily Evans walking down the corridors, calm as you please, hand-in-hand with Dennis Wemmick. The Hufflepuff surprised and impressed Marissa and the other Marauders when he didn't quail in the face of James's rage. In fact, it would be difficult to say that he batted an eyelash at the younger boy's fury. 

Nor did he so much as comment on the buckets of ice water and worse that seemed to be falling on his head at an unusually high rate, it never occured to him to wonder or tattle when his food was spiced to a degree far too hot for a British tongue and water mixed with his milk, Dennis Wemmick didn't offer the Marauders a single outward sign of annoyance for the immense effort they expended in drilling minute holes in his potions cauldron. Professor Delacour had an arguably more vocal reaction to this last one, giving them a week of detentions and adding an additional chapter to her Chronicles of the Lost Cauldron or whatever it was titled this week. 

After that it was all tripping him in the Courtyard, kicking chairs out in front of him in the Great Hall, invisible and often unrecognizable unpleasant articles being left on his seat in classes (how they had derived his schedule was the most impressive thing about this prank). Wemmick's one and only comment on it was made to Lily, "It's really not so bad by half as what I expected. I truly expected them to be much more creative in their efforts." 

"Don't say things like that, it's tempting the gods," Lily had chided him, glancing uncomfortably over her shoulder as if afraid to find that she was being followed. 

And of course all this made him the hero of the James Potter Fan Club. What had started out officially as the Gryffindor Booster Club founded jointly by Lily and Marissa, the even then entirely female group had grown so star-crazy over James's flying ability that even before the love triangle gone wrong, Lily had found the meetings too sickening to continue to attend and lead. That left Marissa alone at the helm of twenty-odd girls all mooning over one of her best friends who already had a rather swollen head. When girls from other houses began asking to join and even attending without permission, the club lost all pretense and the Gryffindor Booster Squad became a separate group within the larger James Potter Fan Club. 

And of course, what club devoted to the worship of James would be complete without those pining devoutly for Sirius Black? It was virtually impossible to separate them in anything, and this was too grand a joke on too large a scale for him to be left out. In all but name, the group of gabbling girls was pledged to moon over Sirius Black as well. 

But Sirius, at least, dated some of them. James was like a unicorn. In the uncatchable sense at least. There was only one girl that he wanted, the only girl who didn't want anything to do with him (excluding perhaps someone like Narcissa Black, but that's a separate issue). Lily Evans. And of course, Evans never had a boyfriend who would claim her for long with Hogwarts' leading prankster out for his blood. So there she was, distracting Potter from his adoring fans by her involuntary single status. But not anymore. Dennis Wemmick had stepped up to the plate. He had taken the object of James Potter's affections off the market and out of his reach. Now, he could get his head out of the clouds and appreciate the gaggle of girls who were vying for his heart. 

Or, at least, that was the prevailing theory at the next meeting that Marissa presided over. That and the fact that the fact that Marissa's friendship with Lily was compromising her ability to lead the club. One Natalie Blaise was of the opinion that her "association with the deluded woman continually rejecting the god in our midst cannot but cloud her own vision and thus render her incapable of leading this club in the direction intended." It was said casually, but it was plain that it was a challenge, however ridiculous a one.

"This club was intended to be a Gryffindor-only club devoted exclusively to Quidditch, Natalie. You have not expressed an interest in either in all the time that I've known you," Suzie Q. had retorted on Marissa's behalf, all but glaring at the Ravenclaw beauty. 

Marissa, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently warn her off, sized up Natalie's bid for the presidency appraisingly. Her eyes flicked over the faces in the group behind her and those watching the scene with worry on their faces. It wasn't as if girls hadn't tried to oust Marissa from her position before. The last girl who had come close to actually threatening her had been rewarded with no greater victory than that Marissa's leadership became official. That was how the position of President of the James Potter Fan Club had been created and come to rest on Marissa Fletcher's shoulders in one swift maneuver. Natalie Blaise couldn't compete, whatever she thought. Not when she had underestimated Marissa so grossly. 

To Natalie Blaise, Marissa Fletcher was probably no more than a naive, sweet, crowd-pleasing girl who was at least half-cheerleader because she had thought to found a Booster Squad, and ineffectual enough that she had let it become something quite different from her original intentions. But was it weak to change your agenda to fit your means and current problems? No, it was merely resourceful. And if there was one thing that you could say about Marissa Fletcher, it was that she was resourceful. 

Marissa doubted she would even need her trump card to maintain her status in the club. And she needed to maintain it. She was the only one of the girls in the entire room that would exercise and enforce the necessary restraint. And she was the only girl in the room who wanted to see James Potter scale down his head. 

It was going to be a long night. 

"You know, it's funny that you say that, Natalie," Marissa replied in her typical cheerful voice. "Because Lily founded this club with me." 

"And ducked out when she saw what it was becoming," Natalie replied with the same frozen smile on her face as before, a hint of victory in her tone. So she thought she would win that easily did she? 

"Yes, for the precise reason that you worry about," Marissa returned. "So she wouldn't be sitting in the back, doing her nails and rolling her eyes. At that point, Lily and I made a patented agreement to agree to disagree about James Potter. We swore an oath not to speak of him in our dorm. An oath we've kept faithfully...on days he doesn't do anything interesting." This elicited a laugh from all the girls but those posed behind Natalie. "The arguments we've had about him!" Marissa laughed at the very real encounters she was describing. "The arguments I've presented to her would make Severus Snape worship James Potter. Thanks to her influence," Marissa couldn't resist drawing out these last four words, "I have amassed no less than ten separate presentations of these arguments. Ten different reasons that I call..." With a flourish, Marissa pulled out her wand and waved it at the blackboard, "The Top Ten Reasons Why James Potter Deserves Our Admiration. If anyone ever gives you grief, recite one of the items from this list and dare them to contradict you.” 

At her words, the list began to materialize as if an invisible hand were writing on the blackboard. "Item One," Marissa read off, chancing a glance at Natalie's angry face before she surveyed the room. Support from all but those around Natalie and defeat in her supporters' eyes. Apparently they too had underestimated Marissa Fletcher. 

Natalie made no less than five additional attempts to undercut Marissa's authority over the club during the course of that one meeting. Only her final attempt had even flustered Marissa. She quickly recovered. When Natalie and her group left, sulky and vengeful, Marissa let out a long sigh. Having to distract from Natalie's attacks was a useful way to evade a confrontation, but very difficult to work into the flow of the meeting. As such, the agenda had been royally screwed by the time Marissa adjourned the meeting. 

Oh well, there wasn't another Quidditch Match for Gryffindor until the end of the year. And Quidditch matches were always Marissa's main focus, a hold-over from the days when she and Lily had run the Gryffindor Boosters together. 

"Natalie Blaise wants to be team captain of the Potter Patrol," Marissa said when she entered her dorm room to find Lily seated on her bed with a book in her hands. "Seems to think that being antagonistic will get her anywhere, that one." 

"Club politics, spare me," Lily all but grunted, not looking up from her book. 

"C'mon, Lils, you're my best friend," Marissa playfully pretended ignorance of Lily's intense dislike of the concept of a James Potter Fan Club. "Shouldn't you care that Natalie Blaise is out for my job?" 

"Here's an idea," Lily replied from behind her book, "Let her have it." 

"And have her singing odes to Dennis Wemmick? Is that what you want, Lily Evans?" Marissa asked. 

"As you have ceased talking sense, I am going to ignore you now." 

"He's their hero now, don't you know? For taking you off the market and away from James's reach…supposedly," Marissa continued cheekily. 

"Club politics, spare me," Lily repeated drolly, turning the page in her Advanced Transfiguration book and refusing to take the bait. 

"Still think you have nothing in common with those...what do you call them again?" Lily finally looked up to see Marissa's unconvincingly innocent face. 

Lily immediately returned to her book. "You mean lunatics? Or delusional flibbertigibbets? Or cheerleaders? I live with a girl who's all three, so it's rather hard for me to tell the difference most of the time." 

"Have a date tonight, Lils?" 

* * *

"James convinced you to do _what?_ " Sirius exclaimed, staring at Marissa's notepad as the trudged out to the Quidditch Pitch with the rest of the school. 

"Catalogue all the plays that Ravenclaw makes. He says since Slytherin's style of play is so similar to Gryffindor's it would be...what was that phrase he used? Contusive to the training program? To have Ravenclaw's methods of countering it written down," Marissa replied with a bright smile. "Lily here agreed to help me." 

"I told her she should suggest to James that he get a video recorder and catalogue it himself, but Riss here insists on being overly helpful," Lily said slightly sullenly as she stared gloomily at her feet. For Lily Evans, Quidditch had about the same appeal as sharing a room with the new Petunia. 

"Nah, Muggle contraptions don't work at Hogwarts," Sirius said off-handedly. Both of the girls stopped dead in their tracks and turned around to stare at Sirius in wonder. "What? You think a pureblood can't know things like that? Muggles have some damn useful devices. Damn shame they don't work here really." They were still staring mutely at him. "I wonder why he wouldn't want the Marauders to help him out, though? Or Jacob Bell, he's down with an injury." 

"Arm injury, genius boy," Marissa retorted rolling her eyes. "And between Remus's lack of knowledge and interest in the sport, which he won't admit to, Peter's poor eyesight, which he also won't admit to, and your tendency for getting distracted, I think James knew exactly what he was doing asking Lily and me." 

"He doesn't have a death wish. He didn't ask me directly," Lily mumbled sounding distinctly put out and giving her friend a pointed glare she knew wouldn't faze her in the least. 

"What does she have over you, Evans, to draw you out here so early on a Saturday morning for your arch nemesis, Quidditch?" Sirius asked, leaning forward conspiratorially. 

"Oh, I've just threatened to tell everyone about the original Singing Incident," Marissa replied gaily for all the world as if the question had been directed at her. 

Lily stomped on her foot, hard, glaring at her best friend, "And part of this arrangement is that that night is _never mentioned however obliquely!_ " she practically shrieked. Marissa only laughed. They had received the pitch and were climbing up the stairs into the stands. 

Sirius looked thoughtful. Dangerously so. "Hm, there are any number of spells that could be cast on a person that he or she is more vulnerable to if singing...the question is which one? Was it a truth charm?" Lily tried not to jump in surprised alarm. "No! Whatever did you admit to, Lily?" 

"Oh let her be, Sirius," Marissa said with a wave of her hand. 

"If he figures out anymore, I will kill you Marissa Jane Fletcher," Lily whispered fiercely in her ear as they took their seats with the rest of the Gryffindors. 

"Suddenly worried about your memory charms, Lils?" Marissa teased her as the Slytherin team in dark green robes made their way out onto the Pitch. 

"Good morning Quidditch fans! This is James Potter taking over for our regular announcer Head Boy Gideon Prewett who is feeling under the weather. And now..." the distaste was plain in James's voice, "I give you the Slytherin Quidditch team..." He seemed slightly more pleased by the boos echoing from the stadium as he announced their names with marked disgust, "Pucey, Bletchely, Malfoy, Flink, Derrick, Bole, and Higgs. Captain Terence Pucey shocked the entire school at the beginning of the year by adding Valerie Malfoy to his roster, the first girl to make the Slytherin team in anyone's memory." 

"Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice said warningly. 

"What, Professor? It's true! I'm just giving some background on the match," James cried, innocently incredulous at her reprimand. 

"Try to keep it to the match, Potter," Professor McGonagall said tiredly. 

"Righto, Professor," James replied cheerily. "And here comes the Ravenclaw team led by captain Peggy Kong. Kong's main find this year was Cindy Liu, the team's Seeker who's sure to give Higgs a run for his money. Not that she'd give me one, of course. Easy Professor! And there's the Patil twins Larry and Barry, well matched as Beaters against Derrick and Bole despite the significant weight advantage of the Slytherins. They make up for in speed what they lack in dumb bulk. And then of course, Henderson, Davies and Bryce make up one of the more creative Chaser teams in our school's league, nothing like the crude violence popular with the Slytherin team -" 

"James Potter! If you cannot commentate in an impartial manner - " 

"Don't know what she's talking about. I think he's making a noble attempt to be unbiased, don't you think?" Marissa said with a laugh. 

* * *

The door to the Prefect's lounge opened and closed with a snap. Gideon didn't turn around. He was staring out the window to the distant view of the Quidditch Pitch where the match was in full swing. Every once in awhile he caught a string of James's commentary, whenever he got particularly angry or excited and the volume rose accordingly. 

Gideon sighed for more than the fact that he was missing the match. He knew what prefect would throw school spirit so blatantly in the face to miss the match. And it wasn't Stacy Meirson who had never shown much interest in the sport. 

In fact, her speaking was really an unnecessary confirmation. And one that he didn't want. She was about to speak, when his voice rang out, "I knew I shouldn't have begged off commentating. I may have had to sit next to you, but at least I wouldn't have had to talk to you." He turned around in his seat. "So, did you get down to the pitch and fight your way back up to the school on the off-chance I'd be here? I find your determination acutely annoying, Walker." 

"Give me a little more credit than that, Gideon. The Head Boy commentates at Quidditch Matches unless he plays or doesn't want the job. The next person that they ask is...the Head Girl. McGonagall talked to me yesterday after you 'begged off' as you put it. I merely confessed my inferior knowledge of the sport," Lizzie explained in a cheerful voice, walking slowly forward. "So I never went down to the pitch, no." 

"Brilliant, Walker. My congratulations," Gideon spit sarcastically, brushing roughly past her to the door. It was locked. 

Shooting his fellow Head a furious glance, he yanked out his wand. "If you're about to use 'alohomora' don't bother," Lizzie replied, again almost cheerfully. "A girl doesn't get to be Head without learning a few tricks." 

"Let me out," Gideon said in a dangerous voice. 

"If you really wanted out, you'd already have the door open," she replied. 

"Ah," Gideon said, his eyes lighting up with sudden understanding. "A will power spell. But do you really think that your will is stronger than mine, Walker?" his voice was almost derisive. 

"In general? I haven't the slightest idea," Lizzie replied casually. "In this particular case? Well, I suppose we're about to find that out, aren't we?" Her voice held a challenge. 

Gideon stepped forward until he was standing mere inches away from her, looking quite menacing. "We're going to talk about what happened, Gideon. No matter how many supposedly intimidating scowls you can put on." He said nothing, merely stared at her no less hostilely. After a moment, Lizzie was prepared to take this for a temporary agreement. 

"Gideon, I'll admit I haven't been marking your steps well enough these past six years to know if this should mean anything to you. But it meant something to me. I can count the boys I've kissed on one hand. Three fingers is more like it. And none of them felt like that. Only you've made me feel like that," Lizzie sounded aggressive rather than tender as she spelled out her feelings. 

"And that's why you can't conceive of it not meaning anything to me," Gideon said in a hard voice. 

Suddenly Lizzie was yelling, "I can't conceive of a man that I thought respected me kissing me like that when he doesn't give a damn if I live or die!" 

"Of course I give a damn whether you live or die why the flying fuck do you think I'm doing this?!" Gideon exploded, drowning her out. He spun furiously on his heel and made for the door, raising his foot to kick the door down. But before he could touch it, the door flew off its hinges and cracked loudly against the far wall of the corridor. Gideon turned to look at Lizzie who looked quite alarmed at his display of accidental magic. Or maybe it was his words. 

A second later she had apparently recovered. "Gideon!" she shouted as she ran out into the corridor, sliding on a sliver of wood as she did so. It would have been a nasty fall if Gideon hadn't roughly caught and righted her. Before he released her arm from his very tight and almost painful grasp, she said, "The castle's empty, everyone's at the match. Who are you afraid will see?" 

There was a moment of hesitation as their eyes met when Gideon was processing what she meant. The next second he was kissing her forcefully, nothing at all like their timid and tender first kiss. The next thing that she knew she was pinned up against the wall as he continued to kiss her fiercely, holding her still every time she attempted to break away. 

After a long moment, he pulled away, still holding her to the wall. "Is that what you wanted?" he released her and she slid down the wall an inch or so before she rested firmly on her feet again, shaking and drained from the force of Gideon's kiss. "Now leave me alone, Walker." 

* * *

It was an exciting game. Even the Gryffindors, who were rather torn over who to support when a Ravenclaw victory would mean they would have to beat them by a much greater margin to win the Quidditch Cup but supporting Slytherin felt wrong on so many levels, had enjoyed it immensely. In fact, almost the entire House had stayed in the Common Room to discuss it. Ravenclaw would be celebrating and Slytherin would be hiding in shame to emerge only when their smug looks could be pasted on again. That left Hufflepuffs if they wanted to venture out into the areas common to all of the Houses. While not generally a bad sort, Hufflepuffs tended to form very close groups within their House that left looking for friends outside it quite unnecessary. 

As was inevitable at every mass gathering of Gryffindors, there was a call for Marissa's latest magic tricks which she gladly graced the cheering crowd with after submitting to several spells to keep her from using magic. Although they'd seen most of them, all but one really, everyone cheered loudly at what had become her customary finale: performing what with a wand would be a simple levitation charm on an Exploding Snap card and spinning it around her body and from her hand. Just before it exploded with a pop she tossed it up into the air so that the explosion took place over her head. 

Afterwards, she left the thick of Quidditch fans and gossipers and made her way across the Common Room to where Remus Lupin sat on one of the few more isolated couches. "Sitting all alone, Remus?" she said as she plopped down next to him. 

"Not anymore," Remus replied. "So you have your pick of anyone in Gryffindor Tower to approach after that stunning display that proves Muggles more ingenuous than wizards, why did you choose someone like me?" 

"You're the kind of person I can rely on to be there when everyone else gets tired of just smoke and mirrors," Marissa answered with a smile. 

Marissa sighed and settled further back into the cushions of the couch. Despite years of wear everything in the Gryffindor Common Room was so wonderfully comfortable. Everything in her house was stiff and didn't give an inch when she sat down. It was probably because of how many people had sat down on them, as opposed to her house where none of the chairs were properly worn-in even after almost a decade in the same spot. 

"I was watching you during the match today," Remus broke the silence. Marissa looked over at him, "You don't like Quidditch, do you?" 

"No more than you do, Remus," Marissa answered honestly with a small smile. 

"Am I that obvious?" he groaned in slight alarm. 

"Only to someone who wasn't watching the match with bated breath," Marissa laughed. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Remus tried not to blanch. 

Apparently he failed. "What? That worried your friends would turn on you if they knew the truth?" 

"No, they're so loyal they could be Hufflepuffs if they weren't so brilliant," Remus said staunchly. 

Marissa tried to look stern at his stereotypical joke but was grinning despite herself. "So what? Just afraid of being left alone in the Tower for a morning?" 

"Why don't you tell me your reasons," Remus countered. "After all, you are the one who pretends with a vengeance. Imagine you and Lily starting that Booster Club when as it turns out neither of you like Quidditch!" 

"It's not so unreasonable when you think about it," Marissa replied calmly. "We started the Squad so that we'd have something to do during the matches. We were both friends with James back then, so it wasn't as if we could weasel our way out of them. As it turns out, herding an insanely large group of crazy girls and shouting almost embarrassing rhymes can be quite a good way to pass the time. And it's not like we have no House spirit, that is genuine excitement when we win. This way we can experience the euphoria of winning without having to endure hours of tedium beforehand. That and no one suspects. You're the first person in six years to figure me out." 

"I suppose I wasn't so clever, how long have you known about me?" Remus asked curiously. 

"Last year, when you made up excuses to miss two matches, one of them even a Gryffindor one," Marissa replied. "Obviously false ones too if I do say so, should I be giving you lessons in lying rather than dancing?" She looked over at him and sat up straighter in alarm, "Oh Remus, I'm so sorry!" 

"What? Why?" he said, pulling himself out of the panic that he had experienced with great difficulty. The real reason hadn't been his dwindling interest, but his lycanthropy. And the idea that she could see through him so easily was more than a little alarming. Marissa Fletcher must not know. Any other secret of his or the Marauder's she was welcome to, but not that. He couldn't lose her as a friend. And even if he could have been convinced that she wouldn't turn on him, he remembered the look of horror on Sirius's face when James and Peter worked it out. And as a Muggleborn, she could never think of a werewolf as anything but a monster. The way she had blanched when she learned that they were real in Defense Against the Dark Arts third year! 

"You looked so upset, did I offend you somehow?" she sounded worried and self-reproaching. 

"Oh, no, I'm just disappointed that I was so obvious," Remus lied (he hoped) smoothly. 

"Are you sure?" she pressed. 

"Yes," he insisted firmly. Thinking it time for a change in subject, he added, "So tell me, why did Lily bail out of the club before she started hating James?" 

"We both almost did," Marissa confessed. "It's actually rather sickening to see the mass hysteria that he evokes among the female population of this school, him and Sirius both. It doesn't do their raging egos any good, that's for sure. And it's also the reason that I stayed with it." 

"To contain it?" 

"Only in part," Marissa leaned closer, speaking conspiratorially. "You see, I've been working on project DJE, Deflate James's Ego, for some time now. Obviously the subtle stuff won't work and, as Lily's proved spectacularly, pointing out his flaws doesn't do a heck of a lot of good either. So I'm trying, as a kind of last ditch effort, to go so overboard that he realizes that he's not in fact a god at Hogwarts and becomes embarrassed by all the attention." Remus snorted. "I didn't say I'd get there by being conservative." 

"You know, that actually explains quite a lot," Remus said. "In fact, I think I like you much better now." 

"Oh really, how kind, thanks so much." 

"No, I mean it. And out of curiosity, just what do you have planned next on the DJE front?" Remus asked in a conspiratorial whisper. 

Marissa didn't hesitate a second before answering obtusely, "Just be sure that you don't miss the next Quidditch Match." 

"Couldn't afford it," Remus shook his head. "Can't have anyone else catching on to my darkest secret." 

* * *

Prefect meetings had grown distinctly uncomfortable after the infamous Second Kiss. It made Gideon's previous attempts to ignore her look quite passive. Now he refused point blank to respond if she spoke to him, had suggested that they trade off running the meetings week to week to reduce the amount of coordinating they had to do together, and bluntly refused to look in her direction whenever they were in the same room. Even if it was the person next to her who was speaking. 

Lizzie found it unexpectedly lonely running the meeting herself and suddenly understood why Hogwarts always appointed leaders in pairs. It was a daunting task to shoulder alone. So she was relieved enough to have Marissa's support that she didn't bat an eye at her rather outrageous plan on the Cheering Up Gideon front. At least she wouldn't have to carry the weight of the meeting on her own, and maybe it would teach Gideon a lesson for leaving her to it in the process. 

"All right, I know I've been stalling the last five minutes, but it's time to bite the bullet and get this thing started," Lizzie said. 

"Fire away, oh fearless leader," Marissa returned immediately. Nearly everyone else in the room looked slightly baffled by their phrases. 

"Since Mr. Prewett doesn't seem to have anything to add, I suppose I'll have to step up to the plate." 

"It's a right Kodak moment, your first meeting handled alone." 

"I just know this is going to trigger rambling." 

"Until you sound like a broken record." 

"It's a domino effect. It's a roll of the dice to trust me with anything." 

"Hey, that's no fair! Two at once! For that, you'll be sleeping with the fishes tonight." 

Although after that Lizzie settled to the agenda, only two people understood the majority of what was said all meeting long. Marissa and Lizzie. Afterward, a very disgruntled collection of prefects spilled out into the hallway, a by no means cheered up Gideon in the lead. He was just about to walk out of earshot when he heard Tirone Quirrell, the sixth year Slytherin prefect mutter to David Saylor, "What else did you expect from a girl like that? Truth be told, I'm surprised this pathetic excuse for a Head Girl hasn't devolved into talking nothing but nonsense before. Stupid Mudbloods, the both of them. What could ever have possessed Dumbledore to make a stupid Mudblood Head Girl? He must have gone batty." 

Gideon whirled, in one glance taking in the smug smirk on Quirrell's face and the shock and hurt on the faces of Marissa and Lizzie who had obviously overheard. The next thing that anyone knew, Gideon's hand was at Tirone's throat and he was being thrown up against the wall. Gideon's angry voice rang through the corridor, as he shouted fiercely, punctuating some of his words but banging Quirrells' head against the stone wall. "Shut that gaping hole in your face you slimy, gutless little weasel! Anna Jacobs Prewett was Muggleborn and she was almost as great a Head Girl as Elizabeth Catherine Walker! And if I ever, ever hear you say anything like that again I swear I'll make you wish you had never been born into a family of such bigoted, hypocritical, pitiful rejects and lived to express such an opinion! You spineless, brainless, worthless little snake." 

With a final violent shake, Gideon dropped Tirone to the ground and walked over to Marissa and Lizzie still radiating anger. So much so that he was unable to repress it as he told them forcefully, "And if either of you ever let something that those rejects say hurt you, you're even stupider than they are." And with that he walked off. 

The instant he was around the corner, Lizzie turned to Marissa. "I stand in awe," she said quietly. "You certainly got him out of his daze but _damn._ " 

"I didn't think it would work quite that well," she admitted. "Sorry, Tirone. Thank you for doing this, and I am sorry that you almost got killed for it. Not what I expected, I assure you." 

Quirrell laughed, "I owed you one, Fletcher. But we are definitely even after that one! Man, I thought he was going to put my head _through_ the wall!" Marissa, Lizzie, and Remus laughed, ignoring the stares of the rest of the prefects who hadn't been clued into their plan. Quirrell was Marissa's favorite of all the Slytherin prefects, seeming to possess an appreciation for right and wrong even if he was very preoccupied with the study of the Dark Arts. Instead of being alarmed by this interest as she often was in others of his House, Marissa merely considered that he would make a great Defense professor someday. 

"C'mon, Riss, I've had enough politics for one day," Remus said ushering her off toward the Grounds where the other Marauders and even Lily had agreed to meet them after the meeting was over. He fully intended to spend the afternoon getting Lily and Marissa to explain the myriad of phrases that he had heard in the past hour. After all, considering they were all in the world he had grown up in, shouldn't he be the one explaining what things meant to them all the time? He'd never understand how with Marissa and Lily it always seemed to be the other way around. 

©KatyMulvaney6-21-2004

 

A/N: If you want me to keep posting these here, let me know you're reading it in a review.  I finished awhile ago on another site but I won't bother to go through and proof again if no one's reading it here.  



	8. Rat Race

## Chapter Eight  
Rat Race

That bloody stupid animal! If Peter wasn't the reasonable Marauder, he would think that the wretched demon creature was in league with Black! 

When had Sirius become "Black" to him? Was it to avoid the guilt? Oh screw it; he didn't have time for this debate. He had to find the snowoman. Thanks to Lily that dratted "cat" wouldn't be able to find him there. Sirius probably wouldn't even be able to find him there, even if he stole the Map from Lupin up at the Castle. Lily had transfigured the place into a safe zone, where no one could enter if they meant harm to any within and was universally Unplottable, even on the great Marauder's Map. He would be safe, unless Black was already there. Oh screw it, it was his only chance to get away from this confounded cat! He wouldn't stay there long. After all, Lupin could come down any minute. 

The monstrosity was barreling down on him and he was still two hundred feet away. Not a terribly long run as a human, even for Peter, but it might as well have been a mile to a rat. With the cat of every rat's nightmares fast on his tail, it was then he took his first risk in thirteen years. He transformed. 

It happened agonizingly slowly, he had spent so many years as a rat, but he at last felt his two feet hit the ground solidly. Or at least as solidly as could be expected when he was so used to running on four legs. He staggered toward the clearing, scarcely seeming to go faster than before as the hissing and now doubly furious cat still pursued him. So it didn't just want to eat him. Could the thing be in league with Black? A "cat" and a "dog?” 

Then Peter had reached the clearing and collapsed at the snowoman's feet, hearing the furious hisses of the beast who indeed could not enter the place. If it was in league with Black, he would know instantly what had happened. Would he be enraged at Peter's gall? Safe from the mad beast, Peter changed back into his rat form. His too long languishing human muscles were screaming in protest at the abrupt change after so many years. After thirteen years as a pet rat, could he ever be comfortable as anything else? This was what he was now. 

He looked up at the face of the snowoman, towering above him. In this form, it looked almost imposing rather than peaceful. Peter reverted to his human form, but the impression remained. Marissa was frowning down upon him, looking at him with great disappointment behind her closed eyelids. He had thought that changing his form would remove the horrible impression, but it remained. It's just lingering guilt talking, man. Come on, fight it! You've done it before! 

There was a brief struggle, and for a moment Peter thought he had won. Then the words came tumbling out of his mouth, the plea he would have made to a living Marissa, "I never wanted to be a Death Eater," he said in a rush. "I had no choice. They would have killed her. They would have killed me. I would have lived my life surrounded by Dementors; I could have been Kissed." 

The snowoman seemed to say the words aloud in her mild tone, "But it was all right for Sirius to suffer that?" Marissa's voice in his head was too much for his shaky defenses. 

"You don't understand! Please! You must understand! I couldn't go! I couldn't! Sirius was strong, he could survive it, but I couldn't! Not knowing what I had done!" Peter felt himself begin to sob and hated himself for it. "And before, to relive his death every single day! To relive that choice! Never knowing if they let her live! You can't judge me!" 

The snowoman's silence was worse than her nearly vocal reply. It ate at Peter. "When I told him of Trelawney's prophecy, I had no idea it would set him on Harry! I wanted to distract him from Sirius and James and Lily! If he had bigger fish to fry then I wouldn't have to betray them yet! I didn't want to do it! I thought it was the Longbottoms he would go after! I didn't even know that Lily was pregnant yet! How could I? Please, please you must believe me! Can't you..." his voice was very small and broken, "Can't you of all people believe me?" 

But the snowoman was silent. 

* * *

Twas the night before the Easter Holidays and all through the castle,

Many creatures were stirring and causing a rat quite a hassle.  


When they should have been snuggled all safe in their beds,  


Visions of capture danced in their heads.  


While through the corridors the rat darted, into shadows he dove,  


And all through the castle his trail slowly wove.  


And what wandering eyes sought this beast  


But a miniature caretaker, eight friends, and one not a friend in the least.  


Through the castle and grounds ran this great chase,  


While the rat tried to find a safe place.  


But each way he turned another pursued,  


Until he knew he was royally screwed.  


And what else should occur on this night not to be missed,  


But a final word between those who had kissed.

* * *

_Twas the night before the Easter Holidays . . ._

"For a girl who hasn't been truly happy since her brother left Hogwarts, you'd think that you'd be more excited that you get to see him again tomorrow," Lily remarked with slight concern at her friend's mood. She and Marissa were both stretched out on their beds waving their wands to summon items to them then banishing them neatly into their suitcases (cleverly transfigured trunks). Anytime that Lily missed, Marissa deftly levitated it into her suitcase. 

However, Lily was quite right that there was a distinct lack of enthusiasm about Marissa's spells, causing the summoned and banished clothing, makeup, shoes, etc. to move very slowly. She exhaled loudly at Lily's comment. "I am, I am, I mean . . . " she trailed off into silence. "I want to see Gus again; I really do. That's all I've wanted since he left but . . . I'm afraid when I get there nothing will have changed." There was a long pause before she added, "And almost equally afraid that everything will have changed." 

"I know this isn't going to sound very encouraging at first, Riss, but hear me out," Lily said, shifting her position on the bed to face Marissa more comfortably. "You may never know if you made the right decision. Sometimes things like that are clear, and sometimes circumstances aren't so kind. You may never know if it was right, but you made a decision that you'll have to live with. And that's what you're afraid to go home and face. The thing is, Riss, you made your decision out of love, so while you may never be sure if it was the right one, it will never be wrong." 

Marissa was silent for a long moment while she digested this. "Say that to yourself this week whenever you feel guilty for encouraging Petunia about Hogwarts," she said at last. 

"If she messes up Dennis's visit at the end of the week, believe me, the last thing I'll do is feel guilty about that little nuisance!" Lily exclaimed hotly. 

"Slow down, Lils, she hasn't even done anything yet," Marissa laughed. 

"Oh but I know she will," Lily said darkly. "And that reminds me, I'm going to be coming in late tonight, Dennis and I are meeting after curfew as it's our last night to see each other until next Saturday." 

"Do me a favor before you leave then, draw your curtains like you're sleeping. That way when I get in late after supervising that detention that Lizzie assigned Gideon for fighting with Tirone I can honestly say that it looked like you were already in bed when I arrived," Marissa said casually. "I make a point of keeping my honor as prefect pure." 

"Yes, the girl who sicced the entire female Gryffindor population on Potter's underwear drawer," Lily snorted. 

"If I recall, I was never formally charged or punished. My entire conversation with McGonagall was hypothetical," Marissa insisted staunchly. 

"I am going to miss you this week, no one but you can get away with being so delightfully hypocritical," Lily laughed, casting her friend a sideways glance, as she sent her schoolbooks zooming into the suitcase to rest lightly atop her Mugglewear. 

* * *

The Marauders, on the other hand, certainly wouldn't pack for the 8:00 train until 7:50 tomorrow morning. They'd wake up at 7:49 of course. James and Remus might wait until 7:54 and make a rush to the station, James even adding speed to his run courtesy of his swifter stag form. That is, unless Marissa had gotten in to tinker with their alarm clocks again. That was the main reason that they had convened in their dorm room, finding it unfairly exclusive not to mention inadequate security to merely place a guard. 

"So, off to the vultures tomorrow," James said as he lazily pulled out a Snitch he had officially Commandeered for Quidditch Practice earlier in the afternoon. 

All three of his fellow Marauders chunked pillows at him, "Oh shut your pie hole, you've got the easiest time of any of us!" Sirius expressed their shared sentiment. 

"Are you kidding? No magic for a whole week? I'll come back as rusty as a second-year!" 

Three more pillows were thrown at him, this time not lobbed. "I'd trade you any day, if you take me up on it I might actually get a wink of sleep on this 'vacation' we're embarking on," Peter said sourly. 

"And if you'd rather attend the prissy social engagements my parents have lined up for me, be my guest," Remus added, casting a long-suffering glance at the dress robes his parents had sent him a few weeks ago. 

"And if any of you want to be hounded about your House, ridiculed for your reluctance to join the side of pure evil, and endure in silence every bigoted, biting comment directed toward our two female Gryffindor friends (in particular), just let me know and you can be Sirius Black for the day," Sirius all but growled. 

"Oh but you're all forgetting one thing," James said pointedly. They all turned to him, "I'm going to put on three pounds with all the cakes Mum's going to force on me!" 

All three of his friends found heavier objects to throw at him, which only his Quidditch-toned reflexes allowed him to neatly dodge. "Based on your reaction to a simple comment," James said, ducking Remus's Muggle Studies book, "And the fact that we're all going our separate and apparently unhappy ways tomorrow, I think this calls for a night out." 

"That's the only sensible thing you've said all afternoon," Sirius proclaimed. James, mistakenly taking this for a cease-fire, caught Sirius's dress loafers (only use he ever got out of them) in the face. "Capital idea, Prongs," he said casually as if his shoe hadn't just nearly knocked his best friend over. "We should send Wormtail to investigate that portrait, Sir Cadogan. You know whatever the teachers would hide behind such an annoying portrait has to be good." 

"Only one problem with your theory, Padfoot," Remus pointed out reasonably, "Wormtail's never felt a draft or heard an echo there for all your banging about. In fact, we've found no evidence of a hidden room or passage at all." 

"Only proves to what lengths they've gone to hide it. Even more worth our trouble to crack," Sirius insisted stoutly. 

* * *

In the Heads Room, Gideon and Lizzie were working in a petrified silence. The place felt like a tomb, the scratching of quills positively deafening, the drops of ink hitting the parchment like whips at their backs. Gideon had forced open all the windows, even the one that had been stubbornly stuck down all year, and Lizzie had bewitched several spare pieces of furniture to act like a Muggle fan, but the air was still so stifling they could hardly breathe. 

"Okay, that's it," Lizzie at long last said too loudly into the echoing silence. "I'm not going to do this anymore. We need to talk this out now." 

As if she hadn't spoken, Gideon said calmly, "I think I'd get more work done in the Ravenclaw Common Room for all it's bedlam there. I imagine the Gryffindor one is worse however, so I encourage you to remain." He began gathering up his papers. 

"You can't ignore this forever, Gideon, look what it's doing to us! Whatever you're afraid of, how is this better?" 

"Walker, I am about to enjoy a stress filled, guilt-ridden week ensconced in a high security facility of my now neurotic as well as grieving brother's choice, and I'm looking forward to it as a blissful vacation. Why, you ask? Because I won't have to deal with the dreaded pronoun 'us' on your lips or attempt to hide from the stalker you've sicced on me who is getting far too creative in her methods," Gideon said without a shred inflection in his voice, sounding almost as if he intended to be cruel. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to start the holidays early by getting out of your company instantly.” 

Lizzie said nothing until the door closed with a click behind him. "I'll see you tonight, Gideon." 

* * *

Severus Snape knew that those pathetic Marauders were up to something. They had confined themselves to Gryffindor Tower all afternoon and word had it they hadn't emerged from their room in hours. This could mean only one thing. They were plotting something. And as the Easter Holidays started tomorrow (Merlin knows Snape was looking forward to that) it had to be tonight. That and that crew of blithering idiots couldn't think too far ahead to save their lives. And that was the exact thing that it would cost them someday. 

But for now, Snape would settle for expulsion. And if he had anything to say about it, tonight would be the night that they paid that price for their arrogance and foolhardiness. If he had anything to say about it, this would be the Moroners last night at Hogwarts. Yes, Snape liked the sound of that. It fit the crew of idiots too. It was just too bad he'd never get to use it on them, because this was the last time he would have to see their arrogant faces. The blonde flibbertigibbet and the redheaded scarlet woman could wait for another day. He'd get rid of all those pesky Gryffindors yet! 

* * *

_And all through the castle . . ._

The Marauders weren't unduly foolhardy, but crowding three under that Invisibility Cloak was just not comfortable and certainly left no room for the stress-reliever that this night was intended to be. They were careful, however. They didn't want to color an already almost universally painful week ahead with a referral to their parents and about a month of detentions. Peter, in his rat form quite safe from detection, went ahead and came back to warn them if the caretaker Benjy Fenwick or one of the teachers was coming. In turn, they kept a close watch out for cats.

It wasn't the fastest way to move through the castle, but it allowed them to walk more comfortably about. In this way, they made their meandering way up to the North Tower. 

* * *

Lily waited outside of the Hufflepuff Common Room getting more and more apprehensive with each passing moment. She had stopped being nervous around Dennis weeks ago, but not even Marissa had convinced her to sneak out after curfew enough times for her to be comfortable with the idea. The worst thing was, it was her idea. That was why she was standing in front of a gargoyle that was looking more and more imposing by the second in the shadowy corridor when all the candles that usually lighted the halls had already been extinguished. Lights out. Out of Bounds. When had she become this kind of person? And where was Dennis? What was he playing at? Could he have been discovered? Could he have chosen tonight of all nights to decide he didn't want to date her after all? Didn't he at least have the decency to come out here and tell her if he - 

But just then, the gargoyle leapt aside and the next thing she knew, good old faithful Dennis Wemmick was coming out to greet her with a winning smile on his face. It was not the treacherous smirk of a Marauder, but a genuinely pleased and warm smile. It was perfect, Lily decided in that moment. "So, where are we off to?" Lily asked sounding decidedly more girlish than she would have liked. 

But Dennis put his finger over her lips hurried but gently. "Sh," he warned. "The next gargoyle over is Dumbledore's office." Lily's eyes bulged until she felt like they were going to pop out of her head. 

Once they were a safe distance away, she hissed, "Then why on earth did you have me meet you there of all places?" she demanded furiously. 

"Because I'd take facing Dumbledore on this little excursion over those Marauders of yours any day," Dennis said with a laugh. 

"They're not my Marauders," Lily said testily. This wasn't going the way it was supposed to go. 

* * *

Severus Snape stole out of the Slytherin Common Room with considerable finesse, if he did say so himself. Those wretched Moroners relied on damned fool luck rather than skill in their pathetic little trouble making attempts. For all their bluster and brag they lacked real creativity and flair. That and basic magical skills. They probably had no idea that there was a potion that would make you temporarily undetectable. Not that they could properly brew it even if they did know of its existence.

He carefully tucked the spare vial in the right pocket of his robes (the left had a rather large hole at the bottom of it) in case it took him too long to catch the amateurs. Not bloodly likely. 

But while those Moroners were arrogant and reckless, Snape was careful. And methodical. Methodical to a fault. 

* * *

"Good evening, Gideon," Marissa cried in a sunny voice as she slid down the ladder she had scaled just before the Head Boy stumbled into the Trophy Room. She displayed the bucket full of polishing tools that she had climbed up to retrieve. Gideon gave her a sour look. "I hope you're in a good mood, because it looks like we're both here for the long haul."

"First of all," Gideon said in a voice that made it quite plain that he was not in a good mood, "You are in far too good a mood for someone who's about to stay up half the night doing grunt work, or at least supervising it though I think that you got off easy on that one. And secondly, considering that the reason I got this detention was because I was defending you, don't you think that you should take it easy on me out of gratitude?" 

"Gratitude?" Marissa said cheerfully but as if it were a foreign concept. "For flying off at the handle after weeks of refusing to speak civilly to me or Lizzie?" 

Gideon's face suddenly became quite fierce. "So that's what this is about. Still playing matchmaker, are you Fletcher? How are your other pairs flourishing, may I ask? Lily and James are going on, what is it now? When do you get it through your head that it's time to throw in the towel?" 

"Speaking of towels," Marissa said as if she had heard nothing else, "Here's one for you to get started with. Happy cleaning. And do try not to take all night, I, for one, am scheduled so that I can sleep on the train tomorrow if I patrol on the one coming back, but I believe you and Lizzie have to work the entire ride, isn't that right?" 

Gideon ripped the supplies out of her hands with the full force of his anger and stalked over to the large and intimidating pile of trophies that little Benjy Fenwick, the caretaker, had designated as in desperate need of elbow grease. 

* * *

_Many creatures were stirring . . ._

Benjy Fenwick had been the caretaker of Hogwarts for a long time. Long enough to endure no less than 75 long running jokes and nicknames playing on his short stature and unwavering enthusiasm for order and cleanliness. He considered catching students out at night the least enjoyable of his tasks.

But in all the years that the now ancient caretaker had labored against the inevitable clutter and grime of the great castle, he had rarely seen a night that kept him more active than this. No sooner had he satisfied that there was in fact no one skulking about in the dungeons (that place always gave him the willies anyway; it was probably just the Bloody Baron being, well, the Bloody Baron for Merlin's sake) than he had to scurry up to the North Tower to deal with a possible outing by the students. Of course, by the time that he checked that the two who had brazenly taken over the trophy room were in fact detentionite and his supervisor and double-checked two corridors for renegades, any would-be culprits were long gone or well-warned of his approach. 

Benjy Fenwick let out a long suffering sigh. Record breakouts, sounds emanating from a perfectly legal pair to confuse him, and all that he could find from any of it was a rat who seemed to be watching him far too closely. Benjy hated rats. They messed up everything. It was going to be a long night. 

* * *

"Why is Hufflepuff Tower there anyway?" Lily said angrily and quite unreasonably as well. "Isn't Hufflepuff the House that -" She stopped when she noticed Dennis's scowl. "That . . . well, that the teachers trust the most?"

"You mean the most boring? The least fun? What were you going to say, Lily?" Dennis said, his anger showing in the tightness of his voice. No, no, no, no, no, this was definitely not how it was supposed to go. Lily opened her mouth to protest, but before she could find the words, Dennis cut her off, "For your information, the reason that Dumbledore's Office's entrance is the gargoyle adjacent to Hufflepuff Dorm's is because the first Headmistress of Hogwarts was not Godric Gryffindor -" he said that name derisively "- but Helga Hufflepuff. And she wanted to be close to her house." 

"Dennis, I'm sorry," Lily tried desperately, grabbing onto his hand when he began to walk away. It took her a good minute to realize that he wasn't walking back toward his dormitory. "I was just upset to learn that I had been standing directly outside Dumbledore's Office for the past ten minutes! Wouldn't you? I was paranoid enough when I thought that only a Hufflepuff teacher was likely to walk by!" 

"Will you stop calling it Hufflepuff Tower?" Dennis said, but his voice had returned to normal, his anger abated. "Maybe Gryffindors have a whole tower, but Hufflepuffs do not! Just three floors near the top of the castle, thank you very much." Then, almost like a side note, "I understand, Lily. I'm sorry. I just got defensive. The rest of the Gryffindors in your year are so arrogant. I just couldn't bear the thought that they had rubbed off on you." 

"Marissa's not!" Lily cried indignantly. No, no, she hadn't meant to say that now! Not when they were just getting over fighting! "And Peter and Remus aren't really so bad -" 

"Open your eyes, Lily," Dennis said in what was almost a growl and strode quickly away before she could ask him to elaborate. 

Lily ran after him and the moment she caught his hand used it to swing him so that he hit the wall. Dennis Wemmick, half a head taller than the by no means short Lily, saw her tower over him in her anger, "First of all, with the exception of James Potter, all these people that you are talking about are my friends, my friends of five years! I may not agree with everything that they do and I certainly don't like everything about them, but they mean a hell of a lot more to me than anyone else in my life and probably more than anyone else who will ever be in my life. So keep whatever ignorant things you think about them to yourself around me! Because I know that they aren't as shallow and stupid as they appear!" Lily took a deep breath to replenish her lungs after her spot of yelling. Dennis was too shocked to jump in. "And secondly," she began to yell but her voice instantly lost her volume and intensity when she continued, "This was not how this night was supposed to go." 

She hung her head sadly and immediately felt Dennis encircle her with his arms. "I'm sorry, Lily. You're right. I don't know them, and you do. I'm sorry." After that, Lily relaxed against him, letting him sway them back and forth until she almost felt like going to sleep. She tilted her head up just in time to see that Dennis had started to lower his head a second earlier. Lily smiled, they really clicked. She and Dennis were right. She knew it. 

They had to be. 

Then, thankfully, their lips met before Lily could ponder too closely what lay under that last thought. She sighed when the kiss ended. This was how the night was supposed to go. 

* * *

"Damn, that was close," Sirius said when the Map showed that the caretaker had meandered down enough flights of stairs for them to breathe easily again. "Try to give us more than three seconds warning next time, eh Wormtail?" The rat that was his friend just stared up at him reprovingly.

"Maybe if you hadn't gotten it stuck in your pocket, it wouldn't have been so close a call," James retorted. "Why do you have it anyway? Give me the Cloak." Everyone was always testy after a close call. 

"Years of loyalty, Prongs, and this is how much you trust me?" Sirius demanded. "Oh fine, oh ye fair-weather friends," Sirius said, hurling it at James. 

"Let's just get to the portrait so the two madmen can exchange their conversation for the night," Remus said equally grumpily as he pushed onward. "Lead the way, Wormtail." 

After giving him a reproving look for the nickname, the rat scurried on ahead. The three boys exchanged a shrug and went back to their jocularity as if the argument had never happened. 

* * *

"I don't think you got that one," Marissa chose to say just as Gideon had scaled the ladder and was about to place the trophy in its proper place. Gideon stared down at her in surprise. "I see a spot on it," she said casually in explanation.

"Oh? Do you?" Gideon said and, without warning, dumped the bucket of suds down over her head. Marissa shrieked as it hit her, throwing up her arms just in time to spare her face the brunt of the blow. "I think I got the spot out," Gideon laughed. Marissa did too, shaking her head up at him reprovingly. 

"If anyone else had done that on detention," Marissa said in a warning voice, stressing the final word. Then she turned abruptly and looked at the entrance to the room that, from his height, it was difficult to see beyond. "Oh good, your timing is impeccable. Why don't you watch him while I go and clean myself up?" Marissa said to the person just beyond the archway that Gideon would bet a thousand galleons he knew the identity of. 

"You minxes!" he yelled, leaping down from the ladder and falling grandly on his butt when he slipped in the spuds he had dropped on his captor. Marissa gave a snort and Lizzie Walker was trying very hard and failing not to laugh. Gideon was by no means calmed by this. Now he was injured and furious. "You little - there isn't even a word for it!" 

"Really?" Marissa said with an impish smile on her face, "Because I can come up with brilliant, wise . . . " Gideon made a loud sound of disgust. "Or crafty, devious, manipulative if you prefer the negative view." 

"That's bloody well it, I'm not staying here another minute," Gideon replied angrily getting to his feet, his dramatic exit marred immediately by the fact that he nearly slipped again. 

"You still have a detention to complete," Lizzie said in a soft but firm voice. 

"A bullshit detention that you two harpies arranged!" Gideon exploded on her. 

"But a detention nonetheless," Marissa replied unfazed. 

"What are you two, sharing a brain?" he snapped as they moved together to block his escape. "Get out of my way." 

However, the minute he stepped over the threshold of the trophy room, he was flung back into the room. "You have not been dismissed by your Detention Overseer!" a very loud voice boomed. 

"Bloody hell, you two are dead," Gideon cried, turning back to them. 

* * *

Severus Snape was making plans to eviscerate someone, and for once it wasn't James Potter and his motley crew. It was that incompetent moron Benjy Fenwick. It was vital to Snape's plan to string the old caretaker along until he could find the Pot-bellied group. But the stupid midget of a Muggle scampered off as if he hadn't heard a thing! Just what he needed, a deaf reject on patrol duty! But Potter wouldn't have a reprieve for long. No, no, Snape would merely rearrange his agenda. Find Potter, then string him along to the caretaker. There was more than one way to skin a cat, especially one that fashioned itself a lion. Making as much noise as possible in the hopes of catching the idiot caretaker's attention, he set off after the Moroners. He stopped briefly when he heard a disturbance in the trophy room, but it was only the Head Boy and those two blonde Mudblood harpies who had attached themselves at the hip lately. Wouldn't the redhead be jealous?

Wasn't it all just sickening? He would get rid of the worst of them tonight! 

* * *

_And causing a rat quite a hassle . . ._

Benjy Fenwick was on his last nerve when he heard the disembodied voice yelling at the Head Boy of all people to complete his detention. What was this school coming to? And he could have sworn he had heard yelling up by Dumbledore's office of all places. Since when did those Hufflepuffs cause this kind of trouble? And Peeves seemed to have taken it into his head to follow him around, trying to lure him up the stairs to the North Tower again. Where he wasn't altogether unwilling to go, considering he didn't believe for a minute that there wasn't anyone lurking up there somewhere.

He was at the end of his rope when he saw that dratted rat again. That was why Benjy Fenwick snapped when it just stared at him, then walked off as if it owned the castle. With a battle cry he had long forgotten he once uttered quite often in the days of Grindewald, the miniature caretaker sprang after the horrid pest. 

* * *

"You heard the bloody voice! Give me permission to leave now!" Gideon roared, looming over Marissa.

She didn't give an inch. Then the voice barked again, "You shall not threaten your Detention Overseer!" 

"I wasn't even threatening her!" Gideon hollered back at the doorway as if he expected to see someone there. 

"You were about to!" it argued back crisply. 

"Oh this is unbelievable!" Gideon shouted throwing up his hands. His mood was not in the least improved by the fact that Marissa in particular seemed to be only barely holding back her uncontrollable laughter. 

"You shall serve your detention in a polite manner!" the voice barked for the last time. With that, Marissa exploded. Gideon had never given anyone so furious a look, but Fletcher was completely unscathed. He realized he hadn't glanced once at Lizzie since she had entered. Good, keep it that way. 

While he had this debate with himself, Marissa had pulled herself together enough to speak, "So has the voice given you the impression yet that there's only one way out of this detention?" 

"I can't for the life of me imagine what that would be," Gideon said sarcastically. "This is blatant abuse of prefect status and undermines the entire detention system. If you think I'm not reporting you to McGonagall you're dead wrong." 

"Oh yes, tell her how you tried repeatedly to escape your detention before fulfilling the requirement and 'threatened your Detention Overseer'?" Marissa said pointedly. Gideon just stared at her. "Now, the only way that you can get out of here without my express permission is to polish that entire pile of trophies and plaques. However, if you were to be honest with your fellow Head about why you've been avoiding her, I might be willing to send you on your merry way and wave my wand at the trophies . . . " 

"You are pure evil, and this is extortion," Gideon snarled. 

"Shall I interpret that as 'I desperately want to stay here all night doing grunt work' or 'It's high time I was honest with you anyway, Lizzie'?" 

Before Gideon could formulate a reply, Benjy Fenwick burst into the Trophy Room. "Did you see where he went?!" he hollered looking quite mad and beside himself as he skidded to a stop just before crashing into the pile. A second later, a rat emerged on the other side of them and with a rather disturbing war cry, the caretaker was after it. The rat seemed to possess almost an intelligence for dodging through trophies and other scattered debris at just the right moment to best trip up the old caretaker. And how on earth had it known to run over that spill? 

"Prewett! Help me catch that wretched mouse! I can magic the trophies clean!" he cried as he got to his feet after falling spectacularly on his bottom. 

"But Benjy!" Marissa cried in an agonized voice. 

Before she could say anything, the caretaker and Gideon were out of the trophy room, and the rat was halfway down the next corridor. Marissa and Lizzie exchanged a glance, then hurried off after them. 

* * *

Watching Sirius and Sir Cadogan go at it was easily the most entertaining thing that the Marauders had seen since Valentine's Day and Lily's crane. But Merlin forbid that any of them suggest that he give up. His answer was a determined, "We've gotten every picture and statue in this castle to give up their password, most of them their universal password, not that it matters since Wormtail figured out how to change the password on the map if you know one, but that's still damn impressive. I will not be thwarted by the most ridiculous knight since Sir Pelinore!"

"Who?" James demanded. 

"King Arthur's childhood friend and mentor, a noble man," Sir Cadogan answered. "I see not why you refer to this great man as ridiculous." Before Sirius could muster a response, no one was quite sure what it would be, Cadogan puffed up his chest rather unimpressively and said, "His failure to catch the Beast he chased was unfortunate, but neither have I slain a dragon! That does not make me a failed knight!" Sirius opened his mouth again, "And, I find your attitude insulting and degrading to the Code of Knighthood!" 

"Cadogan, I really didn't mean -" 

"That is Sir Cadogan to you, you mongrel!" Sir Cadogan said with more dignity than he could usually muster. It ruined his dramatic exit, however, when he tripped spectacularly just before he disappeared beyond the frame. 

Sirius only had time to let out a gusty sigh of disappointment before all hell broke loose. From the next room over where Peter was standing guard came the war cry of the quiet, friendly, small-statured caretaker. "Was that Benjy?" Sirius cried in surprise. With that they all made a dive for the discarded Cloak 

Put delicately to shield their fragile if gargantuan egos, the Marauders were caught unawares and reacted with adequate speed. Put honestly, to protect the room space left for everyone else in with their swelled heads, the boys panicked and barely managed to hide in time. As it was, Remus didn't get under the Invisibility Cloak and finally dove behind a statue. There was one thought running through their minds. Oh crap. Bloody hell. Merlin's beard. With varying means of expressing that thought. How in the world were they going to keep Peter away from Benjy? How did this night go so wrong? 

With a collective shrug, they took off after the mad caretaker, going as quickly as they could without revealing themselves. 

At least, they managed to prevent anyone visible from seeing them take off after the caretaker. Not that Severus Snape could make heads or tails of their actions. And why wasn't Peter with them? And why the hell did that blasted caretaker have to go and lose his mind just when he had lured him almost to the main lunatics of the night? 

Snape was surrounded by idiots, and not just the Gryffindors this time! 

Seething, he followed. 

* * * 

The quick kiss had turned into many, which Lily was not protesting in the least. That was why they had snuck out. Though she might have hoped it would be slightly less out in the open. Then again, where was her sense of adventure?

"There's something," Dennis murmured between kisses. "That I’ve been meaning to give you.” 

"Really?" Lily said with a smile. "I wonder what it could be?" Thank you, Dennis, for this feeling again. Not love, not like she had loved Sirius certainly, but what she had felt for Sirius at the first. Excitement, nervousness, a spark of something that made her feel beautiful. Even Marissa, the James Potter cheerleader, understood that. 

"I think I might keep you in suspense for a little while longer," Dennis said playfully, though he took one of his arms from around her and seemed to be fumbling in his pocket. Lily couldn't suppress her grin; he was perfect. And certainly better than she had thought she would be able to do that first year after the Sirius mess when she realized what a strong deterrent the disfavor of James Potter and the Marauders could be. Do NOT think about them, that's not what's supposed to happen now. 

That thought begged a question that Lily wasn't sure she wanted to answer. Just what did Dennis think was supposed to happen tonight? 

But before she could see his surprise, he cursed. Looking up at him in surprise, he shrugged at his clumsiness and bent down to reach for it, not quite willing to let go of her just yet and forcing her to stay in his arms with her back to it. She thought this highly unnecessary and shifted out of his grip, though she made no effort to look at whatever Dennis had dropped. Not that it mattered, considering a passing rat caught it on his tail and took off down the hall. 

Dennis had no time to absorb this astonishing occurence before he had to grab Lily and dive behind a statue as a clamoring crowd of what looked like madmen led by the caretaker ran screaming after the rat. Dennis and Lily sat up, "Was that Benjy Fenwick and the Head Boy?" he asked in confusion. But before Lily could formulate any kind of response, another pair ran through after them, yelling Gideon and Benjy's names as they pelted after them. Dennis barely managed to pull Lily out of view in time. 

He turned to her with a look of acute shock on his face, "Has the whole castle gone crazy or is it just me?" he cried. Hearing footsteps, they both dove under their flimsy cover again. "The Head Girl and your Marissa screaming like banshees now? What on earth is next?" he whispered incredulously. 

It was several minutes before they determined that the footsteps had been a false alarm. "Well," Lily said with a laugh, "That was odd." 

"Not just that," Dennis said grimly. "That rat got - it." 

"It being?" Lily pried with a laugh. 

"It being something we need to get back. "Let's go." And with that, Dennis took her hand and yanked her to her feet then nearly off them again with how fast he pulled her down the corridor after them. 

* * *

_When they should have been snuggled all safe in their beds . . ._

Marissa sincerely hoped two things lest the plan she had so carefully crafted with Lizzie completely go up in smoke. The first was that Gideon did not notice that the clock had struck midnight and the voice had probably gone to sleep for the night, freeing him. The other was that Lizzie did not give up on talking to him, which it was beginning to look like she may do. Taking Lizzie's hand, she pulled her along as the clock chimed twelve times. Just please, please don't let Gideon have something in common with Cinderella!

Lily's plan, in the meantime, was shot completely to hell. This was definitely how it was supposed to go. That and she was getting sleepy and that was making it harder to run this fast - which they had been doing for far too long in her estimation, stopping every once and awhile because they were getting too close to the two groups ahead of them. All she wanted in the world was to be back safely in Gryffindor Tower. If this was what the castle became when the sun went down no wonder they didn't want students running about! It was madness! 

If the fact that Peter could be caught and killed was not heavy on the Marauders' minds they would have found the first class mayhem they were causing uproariously funny. They had been laboring for years to get a proper rise out of the usually sedate though severely overworked caretaker. And when he reacted, he reacted with a vengeance. But even when the Head Boy and Girl and even Marissa was found to be chasing them acting quite crazy, there was the little thing about Peter being fed to a cat to stem their amusement. In fact, they were terrified. This was the worst scrape that they had been in since those boys in the village had dared an outcast to spend a night in the Shrieking Shack and he had almost made it through the threshold. The poor bloke had probably never lived the incident down. 

Severus's plan had had to be revised so many times he wondered if he still had one. Basically the way it ran now was wear himself out chasing the Moroners and caretaker who was chasing a rat as part of a nervous breakdown of some sort hoping that if he was there to be the catalyst at the right moment he could make them bump into each other. Or at least reveal to him how those dimwits managed to get around so secretively. 

* * *

_Visions of capture danced in their heads . . ._

"I hear footsteps," Lily said, freezing where she stood.

"What, you think you're less visible standing right there?" Dennis snapped in annoyance, yanking her into an alcove. It offered almost no protection, but it was better than nothing. 

"What was it anyway?" Lily whispered as they crowded into the alcove. 

"How the hell would I know what you heard?" Dennis snapped in annoyance. 

"No," Lily said getting rather irritated with him herself. "What that dratted rat took." No no no no no. This was not going the way it was supposed to. 

Dennis put his finger over her lips urgently, looking over her head at the room. After a long moment, he said, "I think it's gone. It must have been a ghost.” 

"A ghost with footsteps?” it slipped out before Lily could suppress it. 

Dennis turned back to give her an irritated glance, "Just be glad it wasn't Fenwick." 

Lily almost stopped short again. She wondered if she had ever heard anyone call the caretaker by his last name before. Could Dennis possibly have something against Benjy? Sure he would get them in a great deal of trouble if he caught them, but he was such a friendly person if you were out at reasonable hours. Not that Lily wanted to be caught of course. Oh confound it all, she definitely was not supposed to be wondering about his character tonight! 

* * *

While Lily usually kept herself to mild curses even in her own head, Severus Snape suffered no such inhibitions when he began to feel the effects of the potion wearing off and slipped his hand inside his pocket to find that the right pocket was indeed the one with the gaping hole. When the flow of vicious expletives had ceased, he was still fuming and could almost feel himself becoming visible. He uttered another round and allowed himself to fall farther behind the Gryffindors. But he was still following. Not even threat of being caught himself could discourage him. At the very least he would take them down with him.

But in the meantime, all that this meant was that his chase took on a more urgent pace. He had to catch up to that rat while he was still invisible and use it to appease that dratted caretaker so he could show him to the Gryffindors. What a night for the castle to go suddenly insane! The redheaded pretended goody goody throwing away pretenses for a dalliance with the boyfriend that Snape quite approved of for the noble reason that it annoyed Potter, the Head Girl had snuck out to spy on the Head Boy and Marissa, did the jealous lover not trust them? But the long and short of it was, if he could pull this off, he could be rid of the entire Gryffindor population of his year. But then, of course, that was exactly why the seemingly stable Fenwick chose tonight to have a meltdown. 

* * *

"Does Benjy not think it odd that I'm here?" Lizzie said, the first words that she had said all night.

Marissa could truthfully say that she hadn't considered this. Nor had she considered what they were going to do when they caught up to Gideon if they managed to stop him from indulging Benjy's mid-life crisis. Not quite mid-life, but what else could this be? "He isn't exactly concentrating on much else now. If he catches that rat he'll probably be too pleased to notice." 

"So hope he doesn't lose track of it and need someone to vent his frustrations on?" Lizzie finished with a weak smile. There was silence except for their labored breathing as they ran along what felt like the hundredth corridor a few yards back from Benjy and Gideon. Then, "Maybe we shouldn't have done this," Lizzie said quietly. "Maybe we should just let matters be." 

Marissa skidded to a stop. "Lizzie, don't you think you deserve to know?" 

"What if there's nothing to tell, Riss?" she challenged in a very quiet voice, looking down at her feet. "Believe me, in my pride it's the last thing that I want to admit, but maybe it's time." 

"Do you not see the way he looks at you when he thinks nobody's looking?" Marissa said in a coaxing voice. She let out a gusty sigh. "I'll send him back to his dorm if that's what you want, Lizzie, but don't you want to know? So you never have to wonder?" 

"Hurry along girls!" Benjy shouted, not pausing for a moment. 

Marissa looked at her inquiringly. Lizzie smiled a little, "Well that answers the question of whether or not he's noticed that I'm here." 

* * *

It was, simply put, impossible to keep up with Peter and his pursuers under the Invisibility Cloak. They hated to do it, but the Marauders had come out from under their protective covering. After all, they reasoned to themselves, as the person they would least want to see them was ahead of them, a certain location that they could monitor, they did not find it unduly foolhardy. Then again, the Marauders did not consider much unduly foolhardy. With a nod at each other, they set off at a run. They had to rescue Peter.

* * *

_While through the corridors the rat darted, into shadows he dove,  
And through the castle his trail slowly wove . . . _

Peter wondered how fast a rat's heart could beat before it imploded. It couldn't be much faster than how it was beating now. What was this Benjy Fenwick, part cat? All cat? So maybe he shouldn't have been playing with him, freaking him out like that. But honestly, the gods of justice couldn't possibly think that this was a fitting punishment. After all, he had to have some fun while his friends were off chatting up Sir Cadogan and he was stuck sitting watch. Peter was tired of being on watch.

Well he was the center of attention now. Half the castle seemed to be chasing him now, and he couldn't seem to give any of them the slip. Maybe he didn't have it so bad being shunted into the background all the time. Oh what he wouldn't give to be ignored now! And to feel invisible, that would be a most welcome gift at this particular moment with the caretaker and Head Boy baring down on him, Prewett clever enough to have something to trap him with. Trying not to squeak as he ran, Peter ducked down a side passage, if only he could reach the secret passage three tapestries down. Fenwick didn't know about it, did he? Would he think to look there? 

Yes, he would. And if Fenwick hadn't known about the passage, he certainly did now. The curses he thought were far closer to Snape's variety than Lily's. 

Then he remembered where this passage led to. Could he beat them there? If he could, would he have enough time? Why was he questioning it like he had other options? 

Peter threw himself forward with such a burst of speed it caused the caretaker to utter a cry of surprise. But it came from far enough away that he just about had a chance. Sprinting toward the tapestry he thought parodied his own life perfectly, he ran three times in front of a small stretch of wall and all but dove into the mouse hole that appeared, wanting to laugh in relief that it still worked for rats. He scurried down the passage he had requested just in case Prewett and Fenwick got creative to coax him out of the hole. Sometimes in his animal form he could respond to tricks as easily as a real rat, letting his animal gullibleness take over. If the other boys ever had trouble with animal instincts, they had never said anything. 

To his dismay, it did not end in Gryffindor Tower, but outside on the grounds. But before he could scurry back, the hole closed him out. When would he learn to be very specific with the Room of Requirement? A way out, was apparently interpreted as out of the castle. As his mind had gone completely blank of curses, Peter cried simply, “Obscenities!” 

* * *

_Through the castle and grounds ran this great chase,  
While the rat tried to find a safe place . . . _

"Where'd he go?"

"I don't know!" 

"He couldn't have gone far!" 

"Yes he could have!" Marissa cried as she skidded to a stop in front of the confused pair. They whirled to face her and followed her arm when she pointed to a small, perfectly shaped semicircle of a mouse hole. 

"We've got him now!" Gideon cried in triumph, going down to his knees and preparing to make a grab for the rat. 

"No, we don't," Benjy said, sounding dejected. "You don't know what this place is, do you?" 

Gideon looked up at him in confusion. "A mouse hole?" he guessed. 

"Just as well you don't, suffice it to say that that rat is long gone. Probably down in the kitchens being fed by the house elves." It was a point of contention with the old caretaker that the house elves would feed anything, even the rats with which he and the students' better trained cats waged constant warfare. 

Casting a look over the face of Marissa and Lizzie who came up behind her a moment later, Gideon suggested hastily, "What if we split up? Maybe we could find him." 

Normally, Benjamin Fenwick would have seen the obvious folly of this plan. However, it was late, a record number of student escapades that he couldn't prove had been plaguing him even for a night before holidays, he was tired from sprinting for almost an hour, his eyes were worn almost out of their sockets from trying to spot that dratted rat in the shadows, and none of it mattered to him in the least if he could just catch that rat. "Good idea. Miss Fletcher and I will search from here down to the Entrance Hall. If he makes as far as the dungeons, he's home free. You two Heads can take the upper floors and the tops of the Towers. Meet us back in the Entrance Hall in an hour if you haven't found him." 

"Wait, wait, I meant - " Prewett stammered hastily. 

"Two Heads are better than one, wouldn't you say, Prewett?" Benjy replied staunchly. "And I certainly don't trust Miss Fletcher here not to get into trouble if I let her outside of my supervision. Come along, we mustn't let him get away dallying here." Marissa and the caretaker took off down the corridor before Gideon could organize another protest. 

He turned around to see Lizzie looking at him almost apologetically before staring down at her toes. "Let's just find the bloody rat and get out of here," Gideon said gruffly. 

"If he were bloody, he'd be a lot easier to find," Lizzie said in a weak voice. Gideon shot her a look that was twice as antagonistic as before but jogged off without looking behind to see if she was following. 

Once they had rounded the corner, Benjy turned to Marissa, "I suppose that makes up for ruining your master plan?" he said with a smirk. In her surprise, Marissa lost all power of speech. Benjy laughed, "Marissa Fletcher, this castle is my domain. Dumbledore may rule it, but I run it. The walls, the portraits, the tapestries, the passages, the secrets, I know them all like the back of my hand, including the secrets of its occupants. I am discreet however, it's not my place to meddle or give warning." 

Marissa let out a small laugh, "I'd say you quite made up for it, Benjy. But what was with the rat?" 

"I've been plagued by that same rat for years, Miss Fletcher," Benjy replied with surprising heat. "You think I'm mad? Surely not every rat in the world can stare down a man then calmly walk away as if he has nothing to fear from him? It's contempt I see in that rat's eyes." 

"Well, let's get the little bugger then," Marissa said with a smile. 

* * *

The Marauders likewise thought it wise to split up and search for Peter. "If only the Map were finished!" Sirius moaned, fully realizing for the first time just how many uses it could have.

"Well, it isn't, and our friend is out there alone," Remus said reasonably. "We all know the passages better even than Benjy. We should be all right even without the Cloak. I say we start from three ends of the school and work our way to the center." 

"We have to go down the North Tower to get to any of the shortcuts that will take us to the East, West, and South ones," James said slowly, thinking it even as he said it. "That should cover the entire castle." 

"Of all the bloody luck!" was Sirius's intelligent contribution. 

* * *

"Well the rat's gone with whatever it was that you lost," Lily said when they reached the place shortly afterward. "You saw everyone splitting up. They're mad, of course, they'll never find it again. Can we just go back now?"

"I think a nice moonlight stroll through the corridors is just the thing we need," Dennis replied with a warm smile though annoyance remained in his eyes. "Unless of course you had your heart set on hurrying back?" 

Lily laughed as she threaded her fingers between his. Smiling happily for the first time since their date began, the couple set off down toward the Gryffindor Common Room. And if they took a rather roundabout way there, who would blame them? Besides the Marauders, that is. 

* * *

Potter and the caretaker were going in approximately the same direction. At the beginning of the night this would have been a great victory, but now that he had gone from the hope of being rid of all those pesky Gryffindors down to just the most vile, it was rather a disappointment. But this night would not be a complete waste, Snape thought savagely as he followed after Potter.

* * *

_But each way he turned another pursued,  
Until he knew he was royally screwed . . . _

After a few shell-shocked seconds and several more cursing this vagueness and the whims of the Room of Requirement, Peter decided he had better find another way back into the castle. He knew several mouse hole passages, the rats had apparently learned a thing or two from their wizard companions at this school. The trouble was that they were far apart and the closest was the most likely to run him into trouble again. Just when Peter was getting seriously annoyed, it started raining. He tried and failed to be grateful that it wasn't snow, but it almost felt cold enough to be. That made up his mind. He made for the closest hole.

He was almost to the exit when he heard the footsteps. Then two feet stopped within few of the hole and he realized after several highly impatient minutes that they were not going to leave anytime soon. 

Wanting to throw something or bite someone (like that dratted caretaker for starters), Peter made his way back out into the downpour. This time he took a passage that the four of them had discovered in third year. It was more likely that they would look for him here, but it was warmer than the downpour and reasonably close to Gryffindor Tower and safety. So of course there were three people having a heated discussion in his way. If he had recognized Sirius's voice, it might not have gone back outside and tried yet another mouse hole. 

So glad to not see anyone when he peered out, Peter immediately scampered across the room. He regretted this the moment he felt a pull on his tail and abruptly he lifted off his four feet. "Well, well, well, what have we here?" the unmistakable voice of Snape said with as much pleasure as if he knew that the rat was Peter. "Why I believe you are the very rat that that idiot caretaker has been chasing." Peter never thought he and Snivellus would share the same opinion of the old coot. "Let's just get you to him then, shall we? Then maybe he'll open his eyes and I can lure him to Potter before the night is out." 

Peter did just about the only thing that he could think to do in this situation. He squeaked and squealed loud enough to raise the castle. How this would help he couldn't really imagine; it was mostly involuntary. However, Peter proved extremely lucky in that it was not Benjy Fenwick or one of the Heads or Marissa that heard his frantic cries but James Potter who was apteral only a room away. Snape would never have let his prey fall farther behind than that. James came bursting in, of course. He recognized Peter immediately naturally, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head to see Snivellus holding him there. Recovering a moment later, Potter said with his usual air (of arrogance), "I should have known you were the one who trained his pet rat to annoy Benjy." 

Snape let out a snarl. "I see rats are no different from their pets." 

"I, for your information, am taking this rat to the caretaker," Snape snarled. 

James sincerely hoped that he didn't flinch visibly. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that," James said calmly, his wand already in his hand and raised to point at Snape. "He's far too good at creating chaos for me to let you end his reign." 

"You'd best worry about your own skin, Potter. The minute Fenwick's psychosis is satisfied by this rat's capture I'm going to set him on you," Snape spit out vengefully. 

"You're out past curfew without permission as well," James said very slowly, as if speaking to a dullard. 

"But I can avoid being seen," Snape said forgetting for a moment that the potion was lost. 

"If that is indeed your plan, however ill-conceived," James said with a cocky grin, "Then I certainly cannot permit you to keep that rat." Before Snape could make another snide comment, James cried, "Fare cadere dal cielo!" 

The rat dropped out of Snape's hands at the same moment that every painting fell from the wall, every knight dropped his weapon, and anything else balanced on anything else fell from its place. Needless to say it made a horrid, echoing rachet. By the time Snape had tried to dive for the rat and looked up again, Potter had vanished. He did see, however, that the small red vial of the potion was rolling away on the floor. Had the rat picked it up? And just now dropped it? Was that even possible? 

Snape didn't particularly care when he realized that Fenwick was scurrying down. He took the potion and downed it, moving quickly into the shadows just in case. 

By the time that Fenwick did get there, the rat was long gone. And so was James Potter. 

* * *

_And what else should occur on this night not to be missed,  
but a final word between those who had kissed . . . _

Lily regretted her choice of paths through the school the instant that she heard footsteps coming down the corridor they were about to intersect. Finding a moment later that it was just Sirius was only a relief for about five seconds. It was then that she realized that Sirius was never "just" anything. And his reaction was going to be spectacular. Bloody hell

After the collective stifled scream from all three, they regarded each other, Sirius clearly incensed. "Sirius, what are you doing out?" Lily cried. 

"I'd ask the same of you, but I have the distinct feeling that the answer would make me seriously ill," Sirius said between clenched teeth. 

"Well why don't you run off so we don't have to feed you little imagination any more?" Dennis said with a false smile plastered over his face. Lily looked at him in slight surprise; her Hufflepuff boyfriend was usually so calm and kind, but then Dennis had had the Marauders attacking him constantly for a month to wear on his willingness to be polite. 

"I'm not talking to you," Sirius snarled before turning to Lily. "I can't blame him for taking advantage of his fabulous damn fool luck, but you, Lily, I expected better from you. You think I broke up with you so that you could - " 

"Oh yes, Sirius, let's definitely go into why you broke up with me!" Lily shouted, taking a step away from Dennis to face down Sirius. "Tell me all about that." 

"You act like such a victim -" 

"You're such an incredible prat -" 

"Why don't you ever try and see it from my point of view?" they both shouted in unison, staring each other down angrily. 

There was silence for a moment, then, "You know, maybe I should leave." 

"Dennis!" Lily cried in exasperation, whirling around to face him. "Don't be stupid just because he is." 

"No, love," Dennis said, giving her a kiss on her forehead. "I think you two have some things that you need to sort out. Until you do, you'll never be fully happy, sweet. And that's not what I want for you, dear heart. I'll see you in the morning, darling." He turned and walked down the corridor toward the Hufflepuff Dorm. 

It was once he had turned the corner that Sirius began, "Could he have thought up any more endearments? Merlin's Staff, you'd think he'd stop at twenty in one sentence." 

"Sirius," Lily said warningly. 

"Lily, you don't find him sugary and oily and overly slick? Come on. If you have to lay it on that thick it can't be real marmalade," Sirius continued. 

"Black!" Lily said angrily, "Shut up about my boyfriend. At least he doesn't have a friend who'll ask him to break up with me." She paused a moment to let her barb penetrate. 

"It wasn't like that, Lily," Sirius said seriously. 

"I really don't care," she said angrily. "The point is that you and he are going to have to get used to the idea that Dennis is my boyfriend now. You're not going to change that with your childish pranks and petty bickerings." 

"Lily, I didn't break up with you so that you could waste your time with guys like that," Sirius said, his voice full of derision for boys the likes of Dennis Wemmick. 

"Why did you have to break up with me at all?!" Lily exclaimed. "I can't believe I was in love with you!" she said in disgust. Then she noticed the look on Sirius's face and continued nastily, "Yes, that's right. All that time that you and James were playing hot potato with my heart, I was in love with you!" Lily bit her lip to keep back the wild tears, "God knows why," she choked out. 

"Lily . . . I had no idea," Sirius said incredulously. 

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "But it wouldn't have changed your mind, would it?" 

"I didn't want to be what stood in the way of you and James," Sirius answered softly. 

"And you thought that who I date should be yours to decide?" Lily said pointedly. 

"I know you must have feelings for him, Lily, you hold him to a higher standard than the rest of us," Sirius insisted suddenly. Lily gave him a dismayed look. "Why else would you have forgiven me but not him? Why are you disgusted by his arrogance and amused by mine?" 

"Sirius," Lily said in the first calm tone she had used since Dennis left, "You broke up with me, at the heart of it, because you weren't in love with me. Painful, horrible, but ultimately forgivable. And probably the right thing to do considering I was falling for you. But for someone who claims to love me to discount my feelings so entirely for a selfish end . . . then to be so arrogant to think I'll come running to him the minute you end it . . . " Lily trailed off, looking over at him and letting her shoulders sag in defeat. "If he felt for me what you claim he does, which I almost believe, then why does he have no respect for me? And for my right to choose? You Marauders have got to learn that people's feelings are not problems that you have to tackle. What I felt for you, Sirius, was real. And it wasn't an obstacle to be overcome." 

"I'm so sorry for the way I hurt you, Lily," Sirius said quietly. "But you have to believe me that it was just me who hurt you." 

* * *

"I'm sorry about all this Gideon," Lizzie said suddenly. Gideon pulled up short in surprise. "You were right about prefect abuse, all of that. And I'm sorry. I just . . . I just didn't want to believe that I . . . that you didn't want," Lizzie trailed off, sounding near tears. "I'm sorry, Gideon." She turned to walk slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, her head hanging.

"Lizzie," Gideon called, stopping her. 

"Please just don't yell at me," Lizzie said, not registering the fact that it was the first time that he had called her that since the Kiss. "I'm sorry," she said, looking up, "I can't say anything else." 

"Lizzie, don't think that it's because you're not . . . not good enough or something," Gideon said in considerable distress as he looked earnestly into her eyes. 

"Then what is it, Gideon? Because you haven't left me any other option," Lizzie said quietly, not daring to be hopeful about anything anymore. 

"No, stop it," Gideon said angrily as he stepped over to her and put his arms around her. "Don't you dare hang your head like that. Stop it, Lizzie, I mean it." With that, Lizzie's resolve broke and she began sobbing on the shoulder of the very man who had broken her heart. It was a long time before she realized that Gideon too was crying. 

Eventually, he pulled away and took her face in his hands. "This isn't fair. This whole twisted, sick world isn't fair. In any other reality you'd be with me, I wouldn't have to lie to the whole world about loving you. I wouldn't have to hide that you've captured my heart." 

"Gideon-" 

"No, let me talk," he shook his head as he cut her off, holding her face more firmly to keep it still. "I have to tell you now; you have to understand. I can't keep deceiving you anymore, not if you're going to get it through your head that you're inadequate somehow." Lizzie bit her lip. Gideon placed his thumb on her lip until she released it, a tender look on his face. "I knew I loved you a long time ago, Lizzie. I was afraid of it at first because of the friendship we have. I didn't think I could bear it if we lost that too; I didn't do so well with that when it happened if you remember our recent history. But I would have been overjoyed when Valentine's Day happened if that had been all that kept me from telling you. 

"But Christmas changed everything. I knew that I could never be with anyone, least of all someone as precious as you. Not when I saw Anna and little Michael and the heartbreak on Fabian's face. I won't curse you with death or losing someone you've come to care about. I can't bear to let you carry that burden, not because of me," Gideon said looking so wistful and sorrowful that Lizzie felt her heart breaking all over again, for him this time. "I just couldn't not tell you anymore. I thought it would be better this way, but not if you are going to start thinking you're not the most beautiful, wonderful, smart, kind, amazing woman that I know. I love you, Lizzie Walker, and I always will." 

"I love you too, Gideon Prewett," Lizzie said just before a sob escaped her throat. After a long moment, she said like a woman grabbing at straws, "We could keep it a secret." 

Gideon shook his head, "Do you not know whom we're dealing with here, love? He knows everything." 

The endearment falling so naturally from his lips was too much for Lizzie. She threw her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could. Gideon crushed her to him, inhaling deeply of her scent. "Why do you have to protect me? Why can't I risk what you're risking? What can't I take the chance that you're taking?" she asked when she had control of her voice again. 

Gideon was firm, "No, Lizzie. I don't take this risk by choice. And let's be honest. It's not a threat I'm under. It’s a death sentence. Sooner or later, he'll catch up to me, and I can take that if it's just me, but I could never live with that with what it would mean for you," Gideon said holding her even tighter. 

After a long moment, she whispered, "So, what? Tomorrow we go back to being just friends? Never mention this again?" 

"That's the way it has to be. Never mentioned," he pulled away to look at her, "But never forgotten either." 

* * *

"Marissa?" Remus's surprised voice called out softly as she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower after a long search with a dispirited Benjy. Remus stepped out from behind a gargoyle a moment later.

"Remus!" Marissa barely kept herself from shouting in her surprise. "What are you doing out tonight without all your little friends?" She looked around as if expecting them to come out of the walls, "Or are they here?" 

"No, we got separated," Remus said, deciding to keep the activities of the night to that. 

"And you're left without the Cloak to find your way back?" Marissa said with a smile. 

"You're underestimating the Marauders. We did just fine the first three years before James's mother died and got suddenly maternal in her will. Sent him a letter with all the things she couldn't say in life and a Cloak that had been in her family for centuries," Remus defended, shaking his head at James's pretended mother. 

"He didn't need her, Mrs. Potter is wonderful," Marissa said with another warm smile. "So, if the stealth of the Marauders is so great, why did you alert me to your presence? Afraid I'd be more apt to give you a detention if I noticed your cursory hiding place behind that gargoyle?" 

"I just thought that if we walked back together we could always say we were patrolling," Remus replied. "I figured you'd be agreeable, it never occurred to me that you'd give me a detention for being out when you are too." 

"Ah yes, but I was hosting a detention that just ended. If we meet Benjy, who's the one on duty tonight, he's going to know that you weren't patrolling." 

"Well, we can just hide when we hear him coming," Remus said with a shrug, "Walk with me anyway?" 

"I'd like that," Marissa said. 

The trip back to Gryffindor Tower was not entirely uneventful, but compared to the rest of the night it barely registered. Until, of course, they reached the Fat Lady. There they saw Peter, in human form. 

"Peter, find your way back as well?" Marissa said cheerfully, not noticing the look of palpable relief on Remus's face. 

"Riss? Remus?" Peter's voice was inscrutable as he said their names. 

"Gave him a safe escort back," Marissa laughed. 

"Can we talk a minute, Riss?" Peter said, his voice again full of an indiscernible emotion. 

"Sure, Peter," she said amiably, "Would you excuse us, Remus?" 

"Cupid," Remus said to the Fat Lady who looked like she had been preparing to scold them all but was now too interested in what Peter and Marissa had to talk about on her doorstep. 

They just looked at each other for what felt like a century. Then Peter spoke, "I wanted to apologize, about Christmas." 

"Peter, you don't have to - " Marissa began immediately. 

"If I'd known how you felt about Remus I wouldn't have tried . . . I wouldn't have thought for just that one moment..," Peter spoke in fits and starts. 

"Remus? What are you talking about, Peter?" Marissa said in surprise. 

Peter turned to look straight at her for the first time in the encounter. "You've got to be kidding me. The girl who sees Lily Evans's hidden feelings for James Potter, who goes about throwing the Head Boy and Girl together so incessantly I'm shocked that they haven't both filed for a restraining order. And yes, wizards have restraining spells. That same girl doesn't see the symptoms in herself." 

"We should go inside, Peter," Marissa said quietly, staring at her shoes as if they were fascinating. 

"Right, it's late..," Peter said, cursing himself for planting the seed in her mind to join the one in her heart. 

Marissa whirled just as she started through the portrait hole, "We can still be friends, right Peter?" 

Peter was a long moment before he could muster a fake smile and a hoarse, "Sure, Riss. Just like we were before." 

* * *

_The morning after . . ._

The next morning was quite unwelcome for the eleven people who had exhausted themselves with the great chase. Never had they wished more that Hogwarts provided coffee with breakfast. Not that most of them made it there. Just Snape, who had set his internal clock to force him to wake up, Dennis, who spent the entire meal watching for Lily at the Gryffindor Table, and the Head Boy and Girl who spent breakfast at their separate tables not so much as looking in each other’s direction but painfully aware of each other’s presence all the same. Benjy Fenwick was seated at the Teacher's Table, of course, and glowering uncharacteristically. He hadn't gotten any sleep at all that night, but that was not so unusual an occurence for him.

The other six Gryffindors slept in until 7:54, were packed and dressed by 7:56, and found themselves sprinting down the road to Hogsmeade station at 7:57 in a blind panic. It looked like it was going to be too little too late when James finally threw up his hands and banished all their luggage to zoom ahead of them to the station and grabbed Lily's hand as Sirius's grabbed Marissa's to drag them more quickly along. Even as it was, they had to run to board the train, Gideon Prewett having already hoisted their luggage into a compartment when he saw it arrive. He was laughing uproariously the entire time he showed them the compartment they had to themselves, sounding as if he had desperately needed a laugh. They were all too grateful to care; Lily even too tired to protest sharing a compartment with James Potter. 

In fact, she did not even have the energy to complain when she found herself sandwiched between James and Sirius on one side of the compartment. 

Snape, his wand out to jinx anyone who attempted to share his compartment, drove off people until the train started moving when he locked the door and collapsed back to sleep cursing his weakness but unable to resist. 

Gideon and Lizzie had no such respite. After hefting the Marauders' and girls' luggage onto the train, he started his patrol duty. Lizzie patrolled the opposite end of the train, acknowledging Gideon politely but formally when they passed by each other. 

It was only a few minutes before the six friends found themselves slipping into a peaceful doze as well. Surprisingly, Lily ended up leaning on James's shoulder while he rested his head up against the window and Sirius slept leaning on Lily. Marissa and Remus nodded off leaning against each other, her head on his shoulder and his head against hers. Peter, feeling rather alone, leaned back until his head hit the back of the compartment and fell asleep there. They slept soundly until the train pulled into King's Cross Station and they had to wake up to say goodbye. 

©KatyMulvaney8-7-2004


End file.
